


Just Below the Surface

by nyagosstar



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aclassi's Transphobia, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, POV Alternating, Pavus' Homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-09 14:25:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8894134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyagosstar/pseuds/nyagosstar
Summary: Dorian's trying hard not to perv on his best friend's boyfriend's dad. Krem is just trying to enjoy the break between semesters and not think about his future. It's Satinalia at The Iron Bull's house.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to one of the fics that I've been sitting on, half finished, since last summer!
> 
> It's mostly complete at this point as I go through and make final edits, so I'll be posting every couple of days. There's a lot about this piece that I really love and some of it that falls into the 'finished' rather than 'perfect' category. I think it's important to recognize when you've hit that wall, as a creator. So, here we are: finished but not perfect, and that's okay.

Felix set a paper cup in front of Dorian as he slid into the seat across from him at their shared kitchen table. He wore a patient, worried expression and Dorian braced himself. The last time Felix had that look, Gereon had hired a security detail for their apartment after Halward tried to have Dorian forcibly returned to Tevinter.

“Bribes are always a pleasant way to start the day.” He took a sip--dark roast with a hint of hazelnut. He set the cup aside. “Out with it.”

Felix folded his hands and leaned in to the table. “Krem asked me to come home with him for Satinalia Break.”

Dorian frowned at the cup, uncertain why the news required bribery. He and Krem didn’t have a deep and abiding love for one another, but he treated Felix well and made him happy. “That’s great.”

“It means you’d be here for Satinalia. Alone.”

“Ah.” In recent years, either Felix had elected to stay in their apartment through the break or they had both gone home to the Alexius Family estate through the holiday. “I imagine I can manage for a few weeks by myself.”

Felix slid a subtle glance toward the kitchen where Dorian could find glasses for water and a kettle for hot water and very little else. 

“Don’t look at me like that. I’ll be fine.” He leaned back and enjoyed another sip of the coffee, now that he knew his world wasn’t about to fall down around his ears. “Things are going well, then? Going home to meet the family is a big step, one assumes.”

A grin split Felix’s face and even if Dorian had been feeling some kind of way about being left alone during the holidays, it would have faded in the face of Felix’s happiness. “It’s really, really good.” His expression turned serious. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

“Of course.”

Of course, that wasn’t the end of it. Felix was like the fabled mabari, unable to let matters drop once he had them to worry over in his teeth. He kept leaving flyers for parties and gallery opening and activities during the break. He printed out and bound a collection of simple, step by step instructions for dinners. He offered to have Alexius send one of their people so he wouldn’t have to be alone.

It was movie night, Krem and Felix curled together on the couch, Dorian lounging on the chair splitting his time between the trite plotline and reading through news from Tevinter on his phone. During lulls in the dialog, Felix kept offering suggestions to Dorian about how to spend his time, as if he didn’t intend to sleep well and long and hardly leave the apartment.

“Maker, why don’t you just come with us.” Krem sat up from his resting spot against Felix’s hip. “Dad doesn’t care about extra company and Felix will just be a big ball of worry about you the whole time and I’d like to enjoy the break.”

“I couldn’t impose.” He already took up too much of Felix’s time as it was. Krem was the first person Felix had dated that wasn’t threatened by their friendship and Dorian was very aware of his responsibility in maintaining appropriate lines of distance. And he didn’t much cherish the thought of spending two weeks living in a stranger’s house. Krem didn’t talk much about his family, but Dorian imagined that if they were anything alike, it would be two weeks keeping to strict rules and religiously maintained timetables.

“It’s not an imposition if I offer,” he said as he pulled out his phone and dialed. “Yeah, hey, is it okay if I bring another friend over the break? Don’t want to leave him here by himself.” Dorian wasn’t sure what to protest first, the idea that he was unable to be left alone like a destructive toddler, or that Krem had called him a friend. Whoever Krem had on the phone responded in a deep voice, the hint of a laugh behind the indistinct words. “Great, thanks. We’ll see you this weekend.” He tossed the phone aside. “Done.”

“I don’t--”

“Please,” Krem leaned back down to rest against Felix. “There’s a pretty much an open-door policy at home during the holidays. Dad knows tons of people who are far from home or don’t have close family or just don’t want to be alone. It’s not a big deal, so shut up and watch the fucking movie.”

“Right.” Dorian leaned back in his seat, mind entirely off the film as he tried to imagine the kind of household that welcomed unannounced guests. The kind of family that welcomed others outside the bounds of scheduled visits. Dorian still felt uncomfortable in the Alexius household, despite his long associating with Felix and having lived under their roof for two years. Though they were kind, Dorian always felt that he was welcome only so long as Felix considered him a friend and he engaged Gereon in lengthy talks about emerging medical theories. 

The invitation lingered in Dorian’s thoughts through the last days of classes. Was he better off staying in the apartment on his own? He tried to convince himself that the quiet would be good for him, despite the fact that he was terrible at being on his own. It would allow him to the time to get a jump on his reading for next semester. Perhaps he could take up a hobby of some kind.

Finals began and all thoughts about break and Krem’s family home were washed away under the weight of studying, writing final papers and taking tests. He slept(poorly), he ate(not enough), and he worked until the last final was complete. He eyes were gritty from lack of sleep. His wrist ached from writing page after page in those ridiculously tiny blue books. 

Felix was face down on their couch when Dorian returned to the apartment.

“Are you dead? Or just sleeping?” 

“Neither.” Felix turned his face, but didn't open his eyes. “All I can see are numbers. Even when I open my eyes. The whole world is math. You done?”

“Finally.” Dorian dropped into the chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. He closed his eyes. “I should pack.”

“You should. Krem’s last final is over by four. You can sleep in the car.”

Dorian, who had been in a car with Krem before, knew that was unlikely to happen. Careful and competent in so many areas, Krem drove like a man possessed, leaving Dorian to fear for his life the entire ride. Still, it wouldn’t do to make them late, not when Krem valued punctuality.

He shoved himself up from the chair and stalked to his bedroom where he dug through his clothes, packing enough to last twice the amount of time. He knew little about Krem’s family, or what might be expected of him as a guest and he didn’t want to be unprepared. He even dug out the bottle of Sun Blonde Vint-1 that had been a gift from Mae when he got his early acceptance for Skyhold Medical School. He’d been saving it for a special occasion, but thought it might be better served as a host gift.

He emerged from the bedroom to find Krem pulling Felix into a standing position with ease, stroking his face with obvious tenderness. He murmured something in Felix’s ear that caused a slow, sleepy smile. “You ready?” The question was directed at Dorian.

“Lead on.”

Krem grabbed Felix’s bags and shouldered his way out of the apartment and down to the parking lot. Krem’s car was a beat up Charger, with the passenger door a different color than the rest of the car, more dents in the bumper than smooth metal and an unironic pair of dice hanging from the rearview. It ran like a song, though, humming with the quiet efficiency of a well loved car. 

What bags didn’t fit in the trunk were transferred to the seat next to Dorian as he squeezed into the back behind Felix, his legs uncomfortably squashed. But the car was warm, already heated from Krem’s drive over, and the thick evening traffic meant that Krem couldn’t put their lives at risk in wildly inappropriate ways. 

The hum of the car, the soft conversation from the front and Dorian’s exhaustion from a week’s worth of tests lulled him and he was asleep before he knew it.

He woke to the sound of car door slamming and the rock of the car that accompanied it. It was full dark, though the driveway was lit with a series of soft lights, and the windows of the house were welcomingly bright. Krem was already halfway up the driveway, enveloped in the arms of the biggest Qunari Dorian had ever seen. The beast let Krem go and then turned to shake hands with Felix, looking like he might break him in half at any moment. 

Dorian scrambled to wipe the sleep from his eyes and mind and he pushed out of the car and neared the small group. Before Dorian could make his own awkward introduction, Krem saved him. 

“Dorian, this is my dad, The Iron Bull. Dad, this is Dorian, Felix’s roommate.”

The Iron Bull’s grip was firm, but not the crushing powerhouse he expected. The grin that split his face was unexpected as well. “Happy to have you here. It’s nice to have a full house during the holidays.”

“Thank you for your hospitality, The Iron Bull.” Manners, at least, were so well trained in him that it took hardly anything to fall back on them. 

“Just Bull is fine. Let’s grab your bags. I’ve got food on in the kitchen and beds made up, all three of you look ready to collapse.”

Before Dorian could work up a protest, Bull gathered most of the bags from the car, and then Krem rounded up the last few. Bull led the way into the house, a single story affair that was a cozy mix of sturdy, well-crafted furniture in horrifying flower prints and a collection of what Dorian could only describe as stuff. There were glass figurines on the windowsills, shelves crammed with books and sports trophies and photographs. The end tables were covered in delicate doilies and topped with lamps that had shades with fringe. Woven baskets were placed at regular intervals filled with seemingly random junk: keys and scissors and pens, pocket knives and nails and matches.

“Krem you and Felix are in your attic room, Dorian, you’re in the first guest room.” He handed off bags to Krem and Felix and then led Dorian down the hall to a room with a bed, a bookcase and a door that led to a private bathroom. It was less cluttered than the entry room, but only due to lack of flat surfaces. The bookcase was still stuffed to capacity with a mix of what looked like romance novels and DIY guides on auto repair to beekeeping.

Bull set Dorian’s bags on the bed. “There’s bound to be people in and out at all hours over the next two weeks. Thought you might appreciate the privacy.’’

“Thank you.” The room had a wide window with a clear view of the back garden. Dorian opened one of the bags and presented the wine to Bull trying his best not to flush under the scrutiny. “For having me.”

Bull grinned and Dorian knew, knew that Bull’s next words were going to be dripping in innuendo. But he seemed to shake himself and accepted the bottle. “That’s nice of you. Come out to the kitchen when you’re settled. There’s food.”

Bull closed the door behind him when he left and Dorian sank down to sit on the bed. “Fuck.” He swore again, and once more for good measure. Krem’s dad was unfairly hot.

*

Dorian spent about twenty minutes talking himself down from his personal crisis. He washed his face and hands, unpacked a few things and stood at the window looking out on the back garden, landscaped with a fine line between natural chaos and established patterns. Once he thought he could make it through a meal without perving on his best friend’s boyfriend’s dad, he wandered out to the kitchen to find Felix and Krem still missing. Of course.

“Help yourself,” Bull said from his place at the table. There was a stack of bowls next to the stove and a huge pot of chili and a basket full of steaming rolls. Dorian served himself and took a tentative seat at the table. 

He took his first bite without speaking and was pleasantly surprised at the complexity of the food, the heat and spice more flavorful than he was used to finding outside of Tevinter. He cleared half a bowl before he realized he’d said nothing. He set his spoon aside to break open one of the rolls. “This is good.”

Bull rolled his eye, the one not covered by a black patch edged in silver, and shoved a spoonful into his mouth. “College kids. Give them a halfway decent meal and they think they’re being fed like royalty. It’s just chili, but I figured if you were anything like Krem, you probably aren’t getting food that doesn’t come out of a package. Least I can do is make sure you get some home cooked meals in you.”

Dorian was saved from attempts at further awkward conversation by the appearance of Felix and Krem. Krem looked unmussed and calm, but Felix was flushed, his lips too red and he would not meet anyone’s gaze. They grabbed bowls and sat and Dorian let them carry the conversation, anecdotes about finals and sleep deprivation and stress.

He was working on his second bowl when Bull cleared his throat and turned his attention entirely to Krem. “Your dad called. They want to see you some time during the break. Told him you’d call him if you wanted.”

Krem’s mouth tightened and he grunted something that was supposed to be a response. Bull took it as one, anyway. Krem glanced at Dorian, then away. “Bull’s not my original dad.”

Uncertain if he was being brought into a conversation or if Krem was trying to head off uncomfortable questions, Dorian looked to Felix. His shrug told Dorian nothing of use, so he ventured a soft, “Adopted?”

“Fostered.” He shoveled in a couple more spoonfuls. “They left Tevinter to get away from their debt there, but it followed them. Things got, complicated.”

Bull snorted, angry and amused all at once, but didn’t elaborate. “You guys have any plans for the break?”

“I thought Felix might like to see the caverns. Or we might spend a couple days camping.”

Dorian swallowed hard, reminded that he was an afterthought to the cozy little house. Of course Felix and Krem would have made plans, plans that interested them. Dorian would rather do almost anything than spend a series of days in the woods, without running water or modern conveniences. He shrugged when Bull looked at him for his plans. “I have some books I’d like to catch up on. Don’t worry, I’ll stay out of your way.”

Bull waved a hand. “Nah, you can have the run of the place. You spend all semester reading, you should have a little fun while you’re here. There’s an XBOX with games and movies and shit in the living room. We’re in walking distance to the mall, but if you want to go farther out you can borrow the pick-up.”

“I don’t drive.” Hard enough to keep his residency permit even while he was in classes. It was almost impossible to obtain a driver’s license as a ‘Vint in Orlais. Too many years of bad blood and suspicion and outright warfare. Val Royeaux liked to imagine itself a diverse and cultured city, but it was as much a tangle of prejudice as anywhere else. 

Bull shrugged, like it wasn’t anything at all to have a stranger in his house, offering to entertain. “We’ll get you around if you want to go somewhere. Just ask.”

Easy conversation followed as Krem caught Bull up on finals and prompted Felix to tell his story about the fire alarm in the student lounge. Bull asked after Felix's studies. They sat and chatted while Bull put away leftovers and cleaned up the dishes, waving away their attempts to help. Before long every other word from Krem was interrupted by a yawn and Bull pushed at the leg of his chair. “Go on. We can talk tomorrow.”

Dorian tried to settle into the guest room, but the bed was too soft and the blankets carried and unfamiliar and distracting scent. It wasn’t unpleasant, but instead pervasive. He could hear Krem and Felix moving around upstairs as they settled and then quieter, heavier sounds as they moved on to something other than sleep. He closed his eyes and imagined himself walking through the atrium of his parents’ summer home, cataloging the flowering shrubs and the birds nesting in the high branches. It usually helped soothe him, but after nearly an hour, he was still awake and thirsty.

He considered just crossing to the bathroom and drinking from the tap, but even though he knew the water was the same, he couldn't shake the lessons from his childhood. Water for drinking came from the kitchen where it was properly filtered and chilled. Water from bathrooms was for washing. 

Bull had invited him to take range of the house, surely he wouldn’t deny Dorian a glass of water?

Dorian eased open the door and slipped down the hall like a thief, wincing has his tread made the wooden floorboards creak. He turned the corner in the living room, on the way to the kitchen and realized he needn’t have bothered. Bull was wide awake, kicked back on the couch watching what looked like a period piece with the volume low.

“Can’t sleep?”

Caught in a conversation he wasn’t expecting, Dorian pulled on the years of manners his tutors had drilled into him from a very young age. “I slept in the car. It’s thrown me off a little, I think.” He kept his tone even and polite, though it was difficult when faced with Bull who had changed out of his daytime clothes into soft, voluminous sleep pants and a tank top that accentuated every muscle in his broad chest and arms.

Bull gestured to the other end of the sofa. “Want to join me? I can restart the episode if you want.”

He shook his head and slunk into the seat. “It’s okay, I haven’t seen any of this.” Felix was mad for it, but from what little he’d seen it was too close to the household of his youth, though he liked to think he had a better wardrobe. The people who worked on the show did an admirable job, but he’d seen the actual pieces that inspired the dress and there was no comparison.

“Seriously? It’s so good. I can start from the beginning.”

Dorian waved a hand and pulled a soft blanket off the back of the couch to tuck around himself. When he realized he’d done so without asking, he looked toward Bull, but Bull was busy backing out of the episode and flipping through episodes to find the beginning.

The show started with a string of tasteful music and long sweeping shots of an estate. He supposed to those raised outside Tevinter it might seem opulent. But the house on the screen was the size of the family estate in Carastes. They’d bought it when Dorian had been accepted into Carastes Academy, as a way to build power and influence in the community. After Dorian was kicked out, they kept it as a religious retreat, a place Halward and Aquinea could go when they wanted to show they were feeling pious and humble. With a staff only numbering in the three dozen, it was practically the picture of austerity.

There was a shift of the floorboards above them and something that sounded like muted laughter. Dorian slid a glance at Bull. “It doesn’t bother you?” 

Bull frowned, but Dorian thought it was more because Dorian wasn’t paying attention to the show than his slightly invasive question. “What them?” He pointed to the attic above. “It’s not like I don’t think they have sex when they’re on campus. They’re happy together, Krem’s smart enough to be safe about it. They’re adults.” He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

“That’s a far more relaxed view than most parents I know.” His own, primarily, who had tried their very best to do everything short of tying Dorian down to keep him away from his chosen partners.

“Most parents you know probably weren’t raised in the Qun.”

Dorian jerked in surprise. He’d thought, what with Bull having a son and living in a house and having friends that he was one of the Qunari born outside the Qun, they tended to have lives that fit more along social norms that the ones that were cast out or fled on their own. From what he understood, most of them died, either at their own hand or the hands of their fellows within a few years. When he opened his mouth to apologize, Bull pointed at the screen.

“Hush. You’re missing the good parts.”

The good parts seemed to mostly revolve around who was late for tea and the horror of the youngest wanting to learn to drive. Still, it was quietly soothing in its own way. Boring enough to lull some of the tension from him. And the cast was very pretty to watch. 

Gradually, the soft, repetitive nature of the show and the soft, calm company lulled Dorian closer to sleep. When the third episode ended, he pushed himself up. “I think I can sleep, now.” He hesitated, unsure of the proper etiquette required. “Thank you.”

Bull waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. Sleep well.”

Dorian walked back to his room and settled into bed, letting the cocoon of sleepiness draw him in. He did not let himself think about how comfortable it was sitting in the dark with Bull, how easily he could have fallen asleep in the deep cushions of the couch that smelled vaguely of flowers and machine oil.


	2. Chapter 2

Krem woke before Felix, as usual. He stretched and took a moment to admire the man in his bed, all lovely and dark, with sharp cheekbones and the beginnings of an attractive blush of stubble. Krem would have been happy to stay in bed the entire day, the entire length of the break, but the scent of breakfast was already heavy in the air and Krem didn’t think that Felix would enjoy Bull barging in to tell them to get up. 

“Hey,” he said as he ran his finger along the slope of Felix’s shoulder. When Felix blinked sleepy eyes at him, Krem pressed a slow, soft kiss to his lips. “It’s time to get up.”

Felix frowned, his whole face collapsing in the expression, and dragged the blankets closer around him. “It’s too early.” He shut his eyes and pressed his face against the pillow.

“Not if your The Iron Bull. If we don’t get up, he’ll come get us up.” It had happened once. The summer break after his freshman year, Lace visited for a week and the luxury of having her in a regular sized bed in a room he didn’t share with three other people was intoxicating. They’d been wrapped around each other, barely covered by the sheet when Bull banged on the door and told them to get the fuck up. Tolerant in so many ways, he could not abide someone in his house still in bed after ten in the morning. 

Felix stretched, muscles rippling under his skin and Krem was more than a little tempted to risk the interruption. He kissed Felix’s shoulder and throat, breathing in the warm, sleepy scent of him. He let Felix nuzzle into his neck for a while before he made himself draw away. “If I don’t get up now, it’s not happening. Come on. Breakfast.” 

He stood and pulled on his clothes, leaning back against his dresser to admire Felix as he dressed--jeans that cost more than any ten pair Krem owned, a designer tee-shirt that looked normal but Krem knew for a fact was tailored to fit Felix. The hoodie he chose was cashmere.

When they first started dating, the casual wealth had freaked him out, kind of a lot. Felix was the child of two doting parents and he didn’t seem to recognize how much more he had, and how much more he had access to, than pretty pretty much every other person on campus--including the president. It would have been entirely off putting if Felix wasn’t so fucking sweet.

“Let’s go, pretty boy,” he said with a grin as Felix started fussing in front of the mirror. “You look fantastic.”

Felix frowned at his reflection. “I’ll remember this when you meet my parents. I just want him to like me.”

Krem kissed away the frown. “I told you. Bull likes everybody.” He tried not to think about the idea of meeting Felix’s parents. Having Felix meet Bull wasn’t a big deal, no matter what anybody said. There was never any pressure in bringing people home because Bull was pretty accepting and willing to let Krem make his own choices. 

Felix’s parents, though. Krem’d seen pictures of Felix’s parents, both candid selfies and staged, professional sittings framed and on Felix’s desk. In his experience, moneyed people from Tevinter tended not to be so welcoming. Probably expected that Krem was trying to get something out of Felix.

Krem shook off the thought and led the way downstairs to the kitchen where he stopped dead in the doorway. Bull was at the stove, flipping pancakes and telling some story about a client and Dorian. Dorian was _sitting on the counter_ laughing and stealing still-hot pancakes from the ever growing stack. 

Krem had never, ever been allowed to sit on a counter. How many times had Bull told Krem that counters were for glasses, not asses? 

What the fuck? 

“Good timing,” Bull said when he caught sight of them lingering in the door. “Grab plates; this is almost done.” He nodded Krem to the oven where there was a heaping tray of bacon being kept warm.

They were settled quickly and the first bite of pancake was the taste of every Saturday morning from age ten to eighteen. “Thanks,” he grunted in Bull’s direction, around a mouthful of pancake, sweet, with an edge of lemon and loaded with shredded apple.

“There’s apple in them.” Dorian said as if it were a revelation. “Your father put me to work.” He sounded both proud and horrified.

Krem swallowed and tried to tell himself that he was not upset by the change in routine. “How ghastly,” he said, hitting a pitch perfect imitation of Dorian’s high brow accent.

Bull quirked an eyebrow at him, but didn’t press the issue. “You guys have plans today, or?”

“Or?” So unsubtle. “Something in mind?”

Bull grinned, unrepentant at getting caught. “There’s the street fair running downtown. Might be a nice way to spend the day. Sera and Dagna are selling honey and Max’s band is playing in the afternoon.”

Maker, Krem hadn’t seen Max in, what? Two years. There’d been a time when he was a pretty common face in the house and on the other end of the phone when Krem called from school. Then he just, sort of, stopped being around. Bull didn’t make much of a deal about it and Krem didn’t know how to ask if he was okay that his sort-of-regular fuck buddy had moved on. 

He looked to Felix who nodded and then, as an afterthought, to Dorian, who was wearing the face of the painfully polite. 

“Sounds good.” 

They finished breakfast without incident, quiet conversation all around and then Bull and Felix went off to get ready for the day. Krem roped Dorian into helping him clear up and load the dishwasher.

“Hey, listen. Don’t feel like you have to go if you don’t want. Bull means it when he says you can pretty much have the run of the place. Hang here if you want some alone time. But it’s also not a bother to have you along.” Most things with Felix came easy. They were compatible in a dozen different ways and their odd angles made things more interesting. They didn’t fight the way he had with Lace and they didn’t fall into awkward silences the way he had with Mer. Getting emotion from Felix was easy, not like it had been with Carver. Probably the hardest thing about his relationship with Felix was Dorian.

Felix was unendingly loyal, right down to his bones, and he was fiercely protective. Krem felt safe in Felix’s regard because he knew, _he knew_ , that Felix would never do anything to hurt him on purpose, never cheat on him, never not think of him when making important decisions. But that same regard fell on Dorian as well. At times, it felt like Krem was dating Felix and Dorian at the same time for as much as Dorian was around and they talked about him. 

Which was hard because, at first, Krem really hadn’t liked Dorian. But the dislike eased to tolerance and the tolerance eased to acceptance. They could hold conversations without Felix in the room to mediate. And Krem worked hard to make sure Dorian understood him. Like how he had to tell Dorian what his options were and that no one was going to be put out either way. That there wasn’t a super secret passive aggressive test going on to catch him out. 

Conversations with Dorian were often exhausting after just five minutes.

“Okay. I’d like to go, then.”

Krem squeezed his shoulder and then pushed him toward the doorway. “Good man. Now go get ready. I can finish this.”

Bull’s truck was too small for the four of them and Krem’s Charger wasn’t big enough for Bull, so they split up, Krem and Felix together while Dorian rode in with Bull. It was nice to have the drive together, where Krem could point out small areas of interest. His old high school. The swim club where he’d gotten the start on his sport that provided his scholarships. The dollar store where he had his first job. They also passed the street where his birth parents lived, but Krem didn’t point them out. 

Half the town was out for the street fair and parking was impossible. Krem circled for almost twenty minutes trying to find a spot or an open parking lot before he squeezed into a space meant for a much smaller car. Bull, of course, had found a spot almost immediately, as he always did, and was waiting for them at Sera and Dagna’s booth.

“Little Bull!” Sera shouted when she caught sight of him. She left her spot behind the table, long and wide covered in a bright yellow checker tablecloth stacked with jars of rich colored honey and bags of bees wax. She slung an arm around his shoulders and kissed the side of his face with a loud smack. “Look at you, all grown and shit. Who’s your friend?” 

Krem made quick introductions and then steered them toward the booth where Dagna and Dorian were in deep conversation about the intricacies of beekeeping. “Yield looks good. The new hive working out for you, then?”

“Two new hives since you’ve been out to see us. I’d have more but Widdle thinks we should keep it smallish. Too many bees and we get written up as a farm with a shit load of new codes and regulations and whatsits. Hard enough to keep track of now.” Sera leaned in, her face sly and and her tone conspiratory, though her volume was anything but subtle. “Up to me, I’d have all the bees.”

“Yes, love, but we don’t have anywhere to put all the bees, so we’ll have to make do with a couple hundred thousand for now.” Dagna broke off from her conversation to help an interested customer pick out a few jars.

“I think there are more than that.” Even without the new hives, Krem was sure the number of bees on their property must have been over a million.

Sera brought her finger to her lips and shushed him. “We don’t talk about millions of bees. Makes her nervous.”

Dagna handed off two jars of honey to a customer. “It makes us sound like we’re building a bee army.”

Sera shrugged, like that was the plan, and went to the other end of the table to sell some wax. 

They hung around the table for a while, chatting with Sera and Dagna. Plenty of people stopped by--lots who knew Bull and by association Krem. After an hour of almost constant introductions, sometimes to people he hadn’t seen in years, Krem grabbed Felix’s hand and stepped away from the table. “We’re going to go wander. Meet you at the stage for Max’s show?”

“Sounds good. You need money?” Bull was already pulling out his wallet and pressing some bills into Krem’s hand, despite his protests. “Get something to eat.”

“Thanks. Hey, Pavus, you coming?” 

Dorian was next to Dagna, their heads bent over a sketch she was was marking out on a section of the tablecloth. He looked up, startled, then shook his head. “I’ll catch up later.”

Krem shrugged and led the way away from the table and into the crowd, Felix’s hand comfortable in his as they wandered through rows of vendors. They stopped as things caught their eye, but Krem wasn’t really in a shopping mood. A lot of local artists had come out and their pieces were stunning, but Krem was living mostly in a dorm room and didn’t have anywhere to put them, even if the prices weren’t well outside his range. Felix, at least, had learned better than to just buy things when Krem commented that he liked them. 

They turned a corner and ran into rows and rows of carnival games, brightly lit, with tinny music and loads of kids blowing their parents’ money. Felix’s hand tightened on his.

“You won’t let me buy you something. What if I win it for you?”

Krem laughed. “You can’t. These games are rigged.” He’d spent a summer with Bull traveling half of Orlais servicing the equipment for roving carnivals. He’d seen first hand how the odds were stacked against the players. 

Felix hummed, a grin starting at the corners of his mouth. “Then you won’t mind if I try.” He stalked through the street eyeing games as he went until he stopped in front of the milk bottle toss and Krem groaned.

“This is one of the worst,” he leaned in and whispered at Felix’s ear, noting with pleasure the little shiver that wound its way through Felix at his words and proximity.

“Don’t worry so much.” Felix handed over his money and took the three balls, tossing them without hesitation at the stacked bottles. The top of the pyramid fell with ease, but the rest of the bottles refused to fall.

The girl running the game made a sympathetic sound and clapped. “So close. Does the gentleman want to try again?” She picked up one of the balls and threw it at Felix’s half stacked pyramid and knocked the whole thing over.

Felix nodded, then handed over money for another round.

“Felix.” Once was funny, more than that was a waste.

“Just one more.” He leaned over and dusted a kiss against Krem’s cheek. “Promise.” Then, without warning, he threw the balls in quick succession so that they struck the same bottles almost at the same time. The structure wobbled and with the last ball collapsed.

He was almost glowing with pleasure as he picked out his prize, drawing Krem in with an arm around his waist. “Which would you prefer? The stuffed bear or the nug?”

“Nug, please.”

The attendant handed over the nug which Krem tucked under his arm and they moved on. And Felix proceed to decimate the lane of games, winning at every booth--sometimes on the first try, but no more than the second. Krem turned down the prizes after the first booth as it was hard enough to carry around one giant stuffed nug, he couldn’t handle ten of them. And he’d have nowhere to put them. Felix was gracious, and instead handed the prizes to the parents of passing children.

When Felix finished the last game, a ring toss that should have been impossible, and handed off the last prize, Krem steered him away from the games and toward the food vendors. “How did you do that?”

Felix grinned. “Physics. It’s the real reason I took up math as my major. I wanted to be able to win carnival prizes for handsome men.” He leaned in, “I get kicked out of casinos, too. I don’t mean to count the cards, I just can’t help it.”

They picked out greasy street food and Krem paid. It was the least he could do after Felix’s glorious display. They shared fries coated in garlic oil and herbs, and kebabs that are almost spicy enough. Krem couldn’t make the food from his childhood for shit, but he remembered the taste, knew what was right and what missed the mark.

Krem was throwing out their trash while Felix ducked into a restroom when there was an overly obvious throat clearing behind him. He turned, ready to apologize for monopolizing the trash can, and found himself face to face with his father. “Oh,” he said, feeling like he was on the edge of the diving board, unsteady and wavering.

“Hello.” The cadence of a single word, in the same tone as he remembered was enough to fill Krem’s nose with the memory of smoke from his father’s pipe and the thick perfume his mother wore. His eyes swept over Krem, shuttered and unknowable. “You look well.”

“Thanks.” He was incapable of anything greater than one word answers. 

“The Iron Bull said you’d be in town for break. Will you come by? Your mother would like to see you.”

“Okay.”

His father nodded and stepped back. “Call and let us know when.”

“Yeah.”

And then he was gone, filtering back into the crowd like he’d never been there, but Krem could still hear his words echoing through his thoughts. He studied the people that walked by, but he didn’t know if he was looking after his father, or making sure the man was gone. He jumped when a hand slid into his own.

“Was that?” Felix trailed off.

“Yeah.” Krem drew in a breath. “Yeah, but it was nothing. Come on, we should head over to the south stage.”

Felix held his spot, his hand tight in Krem’s. “Are you certain?” He looked back the way they’d come. “We could leave.”

It was why he prefered to set up meeting with his parents days if not weeks in advance. He needed the time to prepare, to process what his childhood therapist had called his rightful anger and hurt. He needed the time to remind himself it was okay to forgive someone and still not want to be around them. Having it sprung on him was not great.

But he didn’t want to ruin the day and he didn’t want to spend the rest of the afternoon holed up in his room thinking about it. “No, I’m good.”

There was already a pretty good sized crowd milling around the south stage by the time they arrived and Krem spotted Bull’s horns with ease. He pushed his way through until they were right up next to the stage.

Bull took one look at him and frowned. “All right?”

Krem shook his head. “Later.”

Bull nodded and turned back to the stage where Rylen was out testing equipment. There had been a time, the first couple years when Bull would have pushed Krem to talk. Mostly because if he hadn’t pushed, Krem wouldn’t have talked about anything at all to anyone. But Krem got better at sharing and Bull got better at knowing when Krem needed the space and when he needed to keep something to himself. 

It was soothing, watching Rylen work with Bull standing on one side of him and Felix on the other he felt buffeted, but in a good way. It was pervasive enough that Krem almost didn’t pay attention when Max came out and started the set. The band sounded good, they'd always sounded good, but now they were tight. Years of practice under their belts, Leliana on drums, Josie on bass, and Cullen on guitar, they sounded polished and professional, while still holding on to that raw edge Krem had liked so much when he was younger.

Max spotted them in the crowd, Bull was hard to miss, and near the end of the set, after a short consultation with the rest of the band, he played Krem’s favorite song. It was an older one, the one Max used to help teach Krem to learn chords back when he thought he wanted to be a rock star. He’d sat with Krem for hours, late afternoons in the summer after his therapy appointments when he felt like everything was wrong with the world and nothing would ever be good, Max had been patient and steady and showed Krem how to focus down to the little things when the rest of his life felt out of control.

The set ended and Max jumped right off the stage into the crowd to wade his way through to them. He was sweating and kind of gross as he slung an arm over Krem’s shoulders. “Hey kid. Didn’t expect to see you here.” He gave a polite kind of nod to Bull, but his voice was warm and friendly as ever. 

“School’s out for a couple of weeks. We just got in last night.”

“Nice. Listen, I’d love to catch up, but we have a show in Redcliffe tonight so we’ve got to get on the road. Text me and we’ll see if we can’t get together before you head back to school, okay?” He looked like he wanted to say more, but Cullen whistled for him from the stage. “I’ve got to go, but it was good to see you, both of you.”

If Bull was troubled by the polite distance, he didn’t show it, instead waving in farewell with a fond look on his face. Once Max was gone and the crowd thinned a little, he turned to them. “Where to next, guys?”

Even though he kind of felt like ditching the street fair and heading back to the house, Krem held his tongue and let the rest of the group decide to check out the vendors on the far side of the fair. Dorian and Felix found a booth selling old gross books and so Krem spent a good amount of time looking through piles of antique tools at the shop next door with Bull. 

“Anything you want to talk about?” Bull asked after about twenty minutes of quiet. 

Lots of stuff, some stuff he hadn’t even mentioned to Felix yet. But nothing he was ready to say out loud. “Yeah, what did you do to Max?”

Bull huffed out a laugh. “That’s hurtful. Why would you assume I did something?”

“Dad. I’m not new here.”

“Yeah, okay. That’s fair. But really, it was,” he sighed and spread his hands. “Not mutual, exactly. He needed something I couldn’t give him and he didn’t understand why. So, he needs the distance. Doesn’t mean it has to affect the two of you, though. You should text him while you’re here.”

Krem picked through a box of what looked like old junk. “Hope Dorian wasn’t too much. He can be a little,” he rocked his hand back and forth. “Annoying.”

“Nah, he was fine. Little squirrely, but that’s just nerves, I think. You ‘vints have some peculiar ideas about Qunari.”

He remembered his first impression of Bull, standing in the doorway to the house, taking up most of the space. He looked more like he would try to eat Krem rather than give him a place to stay. But Bull made it easy to trust him, even when it felt like the rest of the world was against him, Bull always made it easy. Like having Krem, keeping him, looking out for him, like that was the easiest thing in the world. “Yeah. You going to be okay with him if Felix and I duck out for a couple days? He’s not really the camping type.”

Bull waved a hand, unconcerned, then turned back to digging for treasures. “We’ll figure something out.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're all lovely. All of you. I thought it would take me longer to get this cleaned up and in order, but all of the kind comments and kudos lit something of a fire in me. <3

The kitchen was a bustle of activity when Dorian pulled himself from bed. The weekend had been surprisingly pleasant with only a handful of awkward moments as he tried to fit himself into the dynamic of Krem’s house. After the excitement of Saturday, they’d spent Sunday lounging around the house, playing video games, watching movies and chatting. A few of Bull’s acquaintances dropped in for dinner and the conversation lasted well into the evening. Once the guests left, Krem and Felix retired early and Dorian spent long hours into the night on the couch with Bull watching more of his boring show.

It was nice.

But that morning, Krem and Felix were headed out for a few days of camping. The weather had taken a turn for the cold and damp and Dorian couldn’t imagine spending time outside, overnight, on purpose. But they both seemed excited by the prospect. Krem was darting in and out of the room looking for various supplies while Felix sorted them into bags on the kitchen counter. Bull was busy making breakfast, talking on his cell, and wrangling dishes out of the dishwasher and into the cabinets, while answering Krem’s occasional question.

“Do you know where the hatchet is?”

“No, 10:30. I can’t meet with Cole before I’ve had an hour to settle in.” Bull turned his face from the phone. “Check the shed.” He set a stack of plates on the counter and looked at Dorian. “You want eggs?”

“Okay,” but his reply was lost in another round of questions and Dorian thought that even if he’d said no, if everyone in the room said no, they’d have all ended up with a plate of scrambled eggs and toast.

Dorian considered the option of helping, but he didn’t know where anything was, or where anything went and instead stuck to a corner of the room and did his best not to get in the way. Somehow, by some design, all the chaos ended at the same time--dishes cleared, bags packed, call ended and four plates of steaming food ready on the table. 

Krem took over the conversation, laying out the plan for his and Felix’s trip. He talked with some enthusiasm about the hiking trails. Bull chimed in with suggestions about places to set up camp and people in the area who could help if they ran into trouble. And then, just as suddenly as breakfast began it was over. Krem and Felix packed the car and drove off and Bull stood at the side of his own truck. 

He dropped a hand on Dorian’s shoulder, heavy and warm. “You going to be okay?”

It was hard not to feel a little abandoned, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been left behind. “Of course.”

“Okay. Well, my number’s on the fridge if you need anything. Just call. Even if it’s for directions or something little. I don’t mind.” He dug a spare key from a fake rock next to the driveway. “I should be back by six, but don’t feel like you need to be here to meet me or anything. Have fun.”

And then Bull was gone and Dorian was alone in the strange house that felt significantly bigger. His first inclination was to snoop. The house wasn’t overly large, but there were plenty of closets and nooks to investigate. Had he been in Tevinter, left alone in someone’s home, it would have been a given that he would have gone through looking for bits of gossip and scandal. But Bull had told him to make himself comfortable, and didn’t seem like the kind of person to hide many things away, or be embarrassed by them. He’d cried openly during a scene of the show the previous night when the driver was struck by another car during a riot. 

So, instead, he wandered through the public spaces, looking over bookshelves. Much like the one in his room, they were filled with a wide range of titles, framed photographs and small figures made of glass or stone. The Iron Bull seemed to have a deep and abiding love of dragons. The movies in the living room ran mostly toward romantic comedies and period pieces, and games had no cohesive theme--he was just as likely to find a first person shooter as an arty think piece.

He played a few games and watched half a movie before he got bored. He made himself a sandwich from the, frankly, ridiculous quantity of lunch meats and cheeses in the fridge, and then went for a walk around the back garden. It was cold, and most of the plants were leafless or in hibernation of some kind, but it was clear that Bull spent a lot of time making the space both functional and beautiful. He imagined that in the spring it was full of life and color, and he found himself wistfully wishing to see it.

The chill seeped through his coat, so he gave up his inspection of the yard. It felt almost too personal anyway. Too much like seeing something of Bull that he wasn’t meant to see, something that the books and games and movies didn’t give away.

His phone rang as he crossed the threshold. Of course. “Father.”

“Dorian.” His voice was soft, strained and Dorian _ached_. 

“Good of you to call.”

“It’s nearly Satinailia. I thought we might see you this year.”

Dorian closed his eyes against the flash of their familial home done up in tasteful lights and decorations, the parties that would have the servants in a state because there was never enough time and never enough hands and still, somehow it all got done. Dorian still couldn’t speak past the burning in his throat.

“Your school wouldn’t tell me if you were on campus. ‘He’s my son,’ I said, but they wouldn’t move, something about privacy laws.” He scoffed, no such rules existed in Tevinter, where Altus children were little better than ornamental property to the family line. 

Of course he had called the school, spoken with a stranger, before he called Dorian. Of course he expected to find what he wanted through an intermediary before ever deigning to reach out. He pulled the phone from his face and cleared his throat, when he spoke, he sounded distant, polite. Normal. “I’m staying with friends.” 

“Felix?”

“Among others.”

“You should be with family. I could arrange for your ticket.”

Dorian leaned back and gripped the doorknob hard enough that his hand ached. Because he wanted. Oh, how he wanted to say yes. But the soft-voiced, hangdog man on the phone was not the one who would greet him at the estate. Because over the phone it was easy for Halward to miss him. It was easy for Halward to forget that the way Dorian looked and spoke and acted, how his very being made Halward furious with indignation. Not so much that Dorian had turned out the way he had, but that Dorian refused to pretend to be something else. And Dorian was done pretending. 

“We both know that’s not for the best.” He did not say, ‘how nice of you to pay for a ticket, but not my education’, ‘how kind of you to call me home when the last time we spoke you told me you had no son’. “Please give mother my regards.” He hung up the phone before Halward could speak again. Halward would, at least, have the courtesy not to dial him back. He could have been shouting for how his throat ached.

Phone hanging limply in his hand, Dorian sat on the couch, the same side he’d taken the first night. He leaned forward, until he was bent almost in half, face cradled against his palms and breathed through the hurt. “Okay,” he said to himself. “Okay. You’re okay.” Felix was gone and there was no one to help him if he let the anxiety spool into something bigger. So he breathed and imagined walking through the gardens of the summer estate until his heart stopped racing and the scent of his father’s cologne faded from his memory.

When he was sure his legs would support him, Dorian pushed himself off the couch and made a slow circuit around the room. And when that was finished, he paced through the kitchen, back through the living room and down the hallway. He needed something to do with his hands. If he were at school, he’d have gone to the lab to tinker until his mind and body settled, but in a stranger’s house there was only the kitchen. 

Never much of a cook, Dorian poked through Bull’s fridge, digging out likely options and then pulling up recipes on his phone. The one he settled on was ambitious and complex, just the kind of thing he needed to leech the infectious memories from his mind. He set himself up, dug through cupboards and drawers until he had all of the things he needed. For the most difficult aspects of the dish, he quequed up some videos and set to work. 

Hours later, he was collapsed on the floor of the kitchen, his back to the cabinet, shivering slightly as the draft from the open window carried out the smoke and let in the cold. The latch of the front door made him jump, but it wasn’t enough to get him off the floor. He had no idea how he was going to explain this to Bull.

“Hey, big guy. Everything okay in here?” Bull sounded remarkably calm considering the state of his kitchen and lingering smoke.

“I think I ruined your pot. And I wasted all of your food. I’ll pay you back, I’ll pay it all back,” even though he didn’t know how he would manage it, without starving himself or selling the last of his things. He should have stayed in Val Royeaux, spent the entire break sleeping. 

Bull crouched down in front of him, close enough to touch. “Nothing to worry about here. Shit happens.” His tone shifted and he reached out and cupped Dorian’s elbow. “Are you okay? Hurt yourself?”

Dorian shook his head, unable to speak around the feelings of helplessness and embarrassment. 

“Okay. No harm done. I hated that fucking pot anyway. Been meaning to replace it for ages.” He stood and offered Dorian his hands. “Come on, you must be cold down there. Never met a ‘vint who didn’t freeze the fuck up with the slightest bit of wind.”

Dorian rubbed his hand over his face, though he’d not been crying, before he accepted Bull’s grasp. Bull hauled him to his feet like he weighed nothing, then patted his shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. It was worse, seeing the destruction: the smoking remains of the large cook pot, the mess of wasted food. His stomach turned. 

“Hey, what’d I say? Don’t worry about it. Everybody fucks up shit in the kitchen. It’s how kitchens work.” He grabbed the pot, smoking ruins and all, and chucked it in the trash. Then he swept up the mess, threw it away and pushed the pile of non-ruined dishes in the sink. “See? You should have seen the disasters that happened in here when Krem first came. I didn’t know how to cook for myself let alone a human kid. We ate a lot of breakfast food that first year.” Bull put his hand back on Dorian, on his shoulder this time, and steered him out of the kitchen and away from the scene of his disgrace. “Let’s go out. Neither of us should have to deal with that tonight and it’s nice to have the company.”

“I can’t.” He squeezed his eyes shut and tried desperately not to think how much easier his life would if he could play the part.

“Hey,” gentle, soft, Dorian could feel Bull take a step closer. “Hey. I invited you, so it’s on me to cover the check. Krem told me things with you are tight and that’s no way to spend Satinalia, okay? 

What else had Krem been telling? It was none of his business and it certainly wasn’t his place to spread the information to whoever he felt like. Dorian felt exposed and trapped, but he didn’t want to move away from Bull. If anything, he wanted to be closer. “I suppose he told you the whole sordid story?” He couldn't’ quite keep the sneer out of his voice, which, he supposed was bad form when dealing with Krem’s father.

Instead of a rebuke, Bull just squeezed his shoulder. “Nah. Just said things were tight and it wasn’t his place to say why. So. Go wash your face, I’m going to change and we’ll go grab something to eat. My treat.”

Dorian gave a jerky nod and slipped out from under Bull’s touch. In the private bath he washed his face, and then his hands and arms when he discovered small splatters of sauce had traveled. He changed clothes and tried to pull some semblance of pleasant company around himself.

Bull was on the couch, reading through his phone when Dorian came out. He grinned in welcome and stood. “Ready?”

“If you’re sure?”

“Course. Come on. There’s a great place not to far from here that I think you’re going to love.”

Dorian was worried that, because of his nationality, and the obvious attempts at his cooking, that Bull would try to take him to a Tevene restaurant. Though he longed for the spices, he didn’t think he could be surrounded by the music and art and accents of his homeland without breaking down. 

Instead, Bull pulled his truck into the parking lot of a smallish pub with outdoor seating and a modern looking sign. The kind of place that catered to a more modern crowd than most local pubs tended. It was dark inside, with some sort of slow music playing in the background. The host lead them to a table near the window and handed over menus without a fuss. 

Dorian took his seat across from Bull and fiddled with the menu, his neatly wrapped packet of silverware, the box of sweeteners, anything to keep his eyes off of Bull. 

Who seemed completely unconcerned. “Get whatever you want. Really. They’re burgers are pretty good, but the lamb is fucking awesome.”

Dorian glanced at the prices and shook his head. “A burger is fine.” Though he’d never really come to appreciate the Southern obsession with ground meat stuffed into a bun.

“Hey.” He tapped the table to get Dorian’s attention. “What do you need to hear to believe that I’m not upset and everything’s okay?”

Dorian’s stomach twisted. “It can’t be that easy.” He’d never in his life made a mistake without profound consequence. Even when his parent’s wealth and power eased him out of trouble, he still had to face their disappointment and their punishments. 

Bull ducked his head down just a bit so that his one eye was level with Dorian’s two. “It is, though. I’m not upset, there’s no secret agenda here. Shit happens. You can’t go through life thinking things are going to go smoothly all the time. And I can spend all my time worrying about it, or I can let it go. I choose to let it go. And you should, too. So relax, and order the damn lamb. I saw your lip curl when I mentioned the burgers.”

Dorian dropped his shoulders, aware for the first time how tense he was, and leaned back. Bull sounded sincere, he looked sincere. Perhaps Dorian could enjoy the evening. And if there were consequences, he could deal with them in the future.

“So tell me about what you’re studying,” Bull said after they’d placed their order and the first round of drinks was delivered--a dark stout for Bull and a pale ale for Dorian.

“People,” he tipped his head to the side. “Well, the human body.”

“What, like you’re going to be a doctor?”

“Medical examiner. I start at Skyhold in the Fall.”

A mild frown crossed Bull’s face, but it was honestly a better reaction than most. “Sounds...squishy.”

“Perhaps. But every body is a mystery waiting to be solved. The dead are nothing to be afraid of, and I can help ease their families with knowledge of how they died.”

Bull made a face, the same face most people made when they thought of how Dorian would spend his days, up to his elbows in the vital parts of the deceased. But he didn’t say anything disparaging, just shrugged. “Everybody’s got their thing, I guess.”

Their conversation drifted, eased by alcohol and good food. Bull was quick to laugh and share a story and Dorian found himself relaxing further, leaning in to share an observation. Bull paid the bill without looking at it, and when they finally left the pub, he kept a warm hand on the small of Dorian’s back, leading him out into the crisp night air. Dorian leaned into the heat of his touch, almost without thought. Or at least, he tried to keep his body relaxed enough that it seemed like it was without thought. 

The drive back to the house was mostly silent, Dorian leaned against the door, watching the passing houses and shops, the tidy sidewalks and starkly beautiful terrain. He didn’t understand how a place so cold could feel so welcoming. 

The lingering scent of charred food hit them as they crossed into the house and all of the calm that Dorian had collected over the course of dinner evaporated. He was a guest. He was a guest in the home of his best friend’s boyfriend's father and he’d repaid that hospitality by nearly setting it on fire. 

But then Bull’s hand was back on his shoulder, steering him away from the entrance to the kitchen and into the living room. He pushed Dorian onto the sofa and dumped a blanket in his lap. 

“We can pick up where we left off,” he said when he took his own seat, legs propped up on the coffee table and the soft sounds of his ridiculous show filling the room. His quiet, steady presence and the mild drama unfolding on the television soothed away the last of his anxiety.

At least until Bull spoke. The characters on the show were in the midst of a grand ball, with lots of dancing and important glances, but not much dialog. “Something happen today?”

Dorian’s hands tightened convulsively on the the soft fabric of the blanket. He kept his eyes firmly focused on the show and did not curl into himself. “My father called. We’re not on the best of terms.”

“Figured that was the case, seeing as you’re here and not there. Think he’ll call again?”

Dorian drew a breath, tried to imagine the scene of his parents at dinner. Both of them at opposite ends of an endlessly long table. Servants carrying and delivering food, drinks, messages between them. Halward passing along the news that Dorian continued to be a grave disappointment. Aquinea on her third glass of wine, disappointed with Halward for not being able to fix it, not thinking much of Dorian at all. “I doubt it.”

“Okay. But let me know if that changes. I’m really good at dealing with assholes over the phone.”

That surprised a laugh out of Dorian, and he turned to Bull to offer his thanks and was struck again by the handsome angle of his chin and his expressive eye. He swallowed hard. “Thanks.”

Bull held his gaze for a moment, then nodded and nudged him back to the show. They watched another two episodes in silence and Dorian found, almost against his will, being drawn into the little drama. 

As the episode wound into the credits, Bull stood and passed the controller off to Dorian. “That’s it for me, but you can keep watching if you want.”

Dorian shook his head and stood. “I think I’ll turn in, too.” It felt too much like a thing they did together for him to watch on his own. He enjoyed Bull’s quiet asides about the characters terrible life choices, as well as his insights on the set design and bits of information about the lives of the actors. Dorian was saving his own bit of gossip, he’d actually met the lead of the show at a gala some years before, when he was an aspiring actor instead of a star.

They both moved toward the door and nearly collided in the hallway. Dorian laughed and tried to step around, as Bull did the same. His laugh died at the warm, over warm, bulk of Bull’s body pressed against his left side. He took in a breath, inhaling the scent of Bull, swaying in his direction. 

Bull, of course, took a step away.

Dorian shut his eyes. Embarrassing himself twice in one evening was really something for the books. He should write up the whole sordid account for his father as a Satinalia gift. “Sorry.” If he could just get around Bull and to his room, he could shut the door and pretend nothing had ever happened. 

“Hey,” Bull ran his hand from Dorian’s shoulder to wrist in a decidedly non-platonic move. “Nothing to be sorry for. You’re smart and funny and hot as hell, I’d be a fool not to notice. But it’s complicated because there’s about fifteen years between us and you’re my kid’s friend. Which is, weird.” His eye strayed to Dorian’s mouth and Dorian couldn’t help but lick his lips. Bull tracked the motion and gave a very faint, but heartfelt shudder. “Yeah. So. How about we table this until I can talk to Krem a bit.”

Dorian nodded. It made perfect sense. But it still stung, even as Dorian tried to rationalize it for himself. Of course Krem had to come first.

Bull took a half step in, close enough that Dorian could feel the heat of his body again. He stroked Dorian’s arm. “Don’t look like that. If we met in a club and I didn’t know you from anyone, I’d have done my best to bring you home.” It should have sounded vulgar and offensive, but Dorian couldn’t help but imagine meeting Bull in an overcrowded, overheated club, dancing to music loud enough to blow his hearing for two days. Drunk on a dancer’s high, moving with Bull to the music. He would have tried to get Bull to take him home as well. “It’s just circumstances. Family.”

Right. Family. That Dorian understood far too well.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're here with another update.
> 
> For those of you who are curious, I'm writing this under the idea that Krem, Dorain and Felix are all about 20/21 years old as is average for a graduating senior based on the american education system--work with what you know, right? They're all at the University of Val Royeaux. Bull is about 35ish and lives a couple hours outside of Val Royeaux in Orlais. 
> 
> You're all the best and I hope you enjoy!

“I like camping.”

Krem laughed and pulled Felix closer, burying his nose in the crook of Felix’s neck. “You like sex.”

“Well. Yes, but I also like this.” Felix drew his hand down Krem’s back, tucking them close. “The two of us, sharing a sleeping bag. The birds instead of traffic. Why haven’t we done this before?”

The first conversation they’d had about camping was clear in Krem’s memory. “Cause you said it’d be icky.” As a concession to Felix’s worries, their camp was nicer than Krem usually set up when he was by himself or out with Bull. They were within walking distance to bathrooms, there was a fire pit and a concrete slab for their stuff. He’d cleared out and leveled the ground before he set the tent so there wouldn’t be any surprise rocks or roots to dig into soft places. The tent was technically a three sleeper and Felix still called it cozy.

“I didn’t know camping could be like this. I thought it was just digging a burrow in the ground and hoping for the best.”

“There is a middle ground between that and what I assume you think of as camping--four star hotels on a nature preserve.”

Felix opened his mouth to argue, but then ducked his head. “Five star.”

“Of course.” The quiet was nice, the lack of schedule was nice. At school, he had his days managed down to the minute: classes, study time, work, Felix and then start the day all over again. He could still feel the impending pressure of the new semester, but it was distant and he could ignore it. “What do you want to do today?”

“I don’t know. This is nice.”

It wasn’t that Felix was lazy. Krem would never call him that. It was that they operated on two very different levels of activity. Krem liked to be busy. He liked to have a schedule. He felt like he was at his best when he was working towards something. As a kid, he’d been so jittery that Bull taught him to knit just to give him something to do with his hands. Bull’s first thought had been needlepoint, since it was a hobby Bull enjoyed, but the sight of the shiny needle and bright thread had sent him right into a panic attack.

Felix, on the other hand. “Should I tuck you in a chair by the fire with a blanket and a book?” He was focused on his work and dedicated to his friends, but he was also a master at relaxation. 

“Mmmm. That sounds nice.” His eyes slipped closed and he nipped at Krem’s ear. “But what will you do?” 

He shrugged. “Clear out the campsite a little more. Chop some wood, set up some traps. I’ve got that scarf I’m working on.” He hadn’t really expected to have time to knit, imagining their days filled with hiking and exploring, but he usually brought a project with him just in case. 

It was just better if he was busy. Less time to think. 

“And we can go for a hike this afternoon? Maybe when it’s a touch warmer?” Felix asked, hopeful.

“Sounds good.” 

He doted a little, playing up at being overly attentive as he got Felix settled and happy. He wanted Felix to like camping so that they might be able to do it again when the weather turned warm. Being out in the woods in the spring was his favorite and if the short, test camping went well, he hoped they’d do it again.

When he was sure Felix had everything he needed, he went off to set up a couple of snares. It was a little bit better than even odds that he wouldn’t catch anything, but it was a habit Bull instilled in him when they went out and he liked the meditative, repetitive quality of the work. 

He could smell the smoke from their campsite and if Felix called out to him, Krem would be able to hear him, but there was enough distance for a little privacy. He checked the bars on his phone and put in the call.

“Hello?” As if every single phone didn’t have caller ID. As if she didn’t know exactly who was calling.

“It’s me. I’m around for a few weeks and dad said you wanted me to stop by.”

His mother cleared her throat and her voice went a little distant. “Oh, did you speak with-? I didn’t realize.” Which was bullshit. On so many levels. “It’s a very busy season, dear.” She’d never been so polite and formal when he had been small. “When did you want to come over?” 

It was a fine balance to choose. If he put off the meeting, he’d spend all of his time dreading it. If he chose a time too soon, he’d be left picking over every aspect of the interaction. Either way, he’d spend most of his break thinking about it. 

He wanted to enjoy his time home, why couldn’t they have just gone back to Tevinter? Why had Orlais even let them stay after they finished their prison sentence? “I’m out of town for a few days, so Friday?” It was probably better to get it over with.

She hummed and he could hear the sound of flipping pages, as if their social calendar was so full. “Saturday would be better for us. You’ll come for dinner?”

Three excruciating courses that would taste of his childhood. Too long stretches of silence. Her looks of unmasked betrayal. His of bewilderment. “Saturday’s no good. I can come for tea on Friday.” Still a meal, but loaded with precise tradition and better food. He could do tea.

She sighed. “We’ll have to move some things around, but if that’s all you can give to your parents, that’s what we’ll take.”

Krem held back his anger, arranged a time and hung up. And then spent the next forty-five minutes chopping trees into wood. By the time he’d collected a decent sized pile, most of his anger had faded and he had run through the conversation as many times as he could to pull out any latent meaning. 

Felix looked up when he came back with his first load of firewood. “Are you all right?” He stood, dropped his blanket onto the camp chair and helped Krem unload the wood. 

“Yep. Want to help me carry the rest of this over?” They were silent for a bit and then Krem offered, “I’m having tea with them on Friday.” He hoped it was enough, because the thought of explaining everything was exhausting.

“Okay.” Then, “Oh. Do you want me to--”

“No.” He cleared his throat and tried again, less harsh. “It’s best if I go alone.”

“Okay.”

Krem sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want you there. They’re just. Difficult. They’re difficult people and it’s easier if I go by myself.”

Felix dumped his stack of firewood on the ground and took Krem’s hand. “Hey. When I said okay, I wasn’t being pissy. I’d be happy to go with you, if you want, but I understand that it’s not about me. So, if you change your mind, I’ll go with you, but if not, I’ll hang out with Dorian and it’ll be fine.” He raised Krem’s hand and kissed his palm. “Promise.”

Krem nodded, taking Felix at his word. It was still hard, sometimes, to trust people to tell him the truth or not hide things from him. Bull had helped him learn to trust, but there was a pretty big gap between Bull and most people. 

They spent the rest of the afternoon hiking through the trails near their campsite. The late season meant that the sun shone down on them through the bare branches, exposing miles of half-nude forest and sloping hills. Krem got the chance to play tour guide, pointing out birds and small animals, identifying trees and plants when Felix asked. 

“Maybe you should have gone into nature conservancy.” They were resting on a fallen tree, sharing water from Krem’s canteen.

He took a drink to give him time to think about his answer. “I guess there’s still time,” he said lightly.

Felix leaned back on his hands, his face tipped up toward the sky. “It’s not too late. Plenty of people change their mind about what they want to do.” He smiled. “Though, engineering to park ranger is a bit of a leap.”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t as big a leap as the one he was considering. The one that was keeping him up at night, that twisted his stomach and made it hard to eat. It was already a leap, and then he’d gotten the letter from Blackwall & Rainer, offering him a position when he graduated. They said they loved the work he did for them during his internship and wanted to bring him on full-time. It was a sweet package with a good salary and they offered to pay for his Master’s degree. When half of his classmates didn’t know if they’d be able to get a job once the year was finished he was considering walking away from an incredible offer. “You ready to head back?”

On the way back, they stopped to check Krem’s traps and he wasn't’ surprised to find them empty. Felix, however, was terribly pleased to see them bare. Which was when Krem discovered Felix was surprisingly squeamish about catching and cooking their food.

“I prefer when it comes to me already butchered,” he frowned down at the last trap and looked at if he might sabotage the setting. “It’s not the Blight, I don’t have to skin things for dinner just yet.” 

Krem rolled his eyes and held out a hand to Felix. “Come on, my prince. Let’s get you something to eat that comes out of a can like civilized people.”

*

The temperature dropped hard overnight and Krem woke to a text from Bull. Weather’s taking a turn. Head for Grim’s or come on home if you don’t want to get stuck.

A snowstorm, big and sudden, was headed their way. What had been a small little storm that was supposed to swing south got caught up in the mountain winds and changed direction. It had already dumped two feet of snow on some of the town to the west. They were about two miles out from Grim’s cabin, but it was isolated and they could be stuck for days. 

He nudged Felix. “Come on, handsome, time to get up.” 

Felix whined and burrowed deeper into the sleeping bag. “Go catch me breakfast, or whatever it is you mountain men do.”

Krem laughed, then unzipped the bag, exposing them both to the chill air. Felix yelped and tried to snatch back the warmth, but Krem was already up and at work packing it away. “Change of plans. There’s a storm headed in, and we need to get back to town before it hits.” They were supposed to spend the day hiking and lounging around the campsite. Krem thought he might take a stab at teaching Felix how to build a fire. Instead, they’d have to spend the morning hiking back to the parking lot and then driving back home.

They broke down the campsite in good time, Krem sent off a text to Bull to let him know they were on their way, and they started the hike back to the car. It was a quicker pace than some of their previous hikes, but they weren’t in danger, so Krem still took time to point out interesting features and they paused a couple times for pictures. 

Krem could tell by the tightness at the corner of Felix’s mouth, though, that he was worried. He kept glancing at the sky, and checking the weather on his phone. 

“Hey, we’re okay. We’re going to make it back in plenty of time.”

Felix nodded. “Yeah. I know. It’s just, snow, you know?”

For Krem, winter and snow was a mixed bag of memories. He remembered his first winter in Orlais, when he was still living with his parents and none of them were prepared for the first cold snap, and didn’t expect that their Tevinter style jackets would be useless in the face of such unrelenting cold. It had been a miserable stretch of months, too poor to afford coats or much in the way of heat in the apartment. The only time Krem was warm was when he was in school. 

After Bull took him in, though, winter was a whole other world. It was warm coats, hats and gloves, roaring fires and hot chocolate. It was building forts in the back yard and epic snowball fights. As he grew older, there was more responsibility, digging out cars, and shoveling sidewalks. Bull, the big fucking marshmallow, insisted on shoveling the walks and drives of their neighbors who had trouble getting around. He liked winter, now, but he remembered how hard it was adjusting those first few years and didn’t envy Felix’s trouble.

It didn’t help that their freshman year, when they were just casual acquaintances, Felix had been the passenger in a car that had slid on some ice and crashed into a wall. 

“We’ll be fine. There might be a little snow on our way back, but we’ll be fine.” He adjusted the straps to his pack. “You want to pick up the pace?”

Felix nodded and they set out with less lingering descriptions of wildlife and photo ops. 

His car was right where they left it, and in good condition. Once they were on the road, Krem relaxed a little, though Felix was still wound tight. When snow began to fall, Krem reached over and turned off the radio and made sure to keep both of his hands on the wheel, like an old person, to keep Felix calm. Felix’s hands were pale as they clenched the door and his own knee by the time they pulled into the driveway. Krem didn’t blame him. About an inch of snow coated the streets and it had been more slippery than Krem liked. 

“Good timing.” Bull helped drag their bags from the car and ushered them inside. The heat was up, the fire was going and Krem let himself relax for the first time in hours. “We went out this morning to grab supplies, so we’ll be set if things go south.”

Krem looked at Dorian, who was lingering in the doorway like a creeper, and tried to imagine him in a grocery store. “Did you get to ride in the cart?”

Dorian laughed too hard and then scurried from the room. Weird.

Bull helped them unpack and then urged everyone to dinner. He was overly chatty while Dorian spent most of the meal with his gaze focused solely on his food. An uneasy feeling started creeping through Krem as he wondered what the fuck Pavus had done.

As soon as dinner was through, Dorian grabbed Felix and dragged him out of the room. Before Krem could begin to ask, Bull cleared his throat. “I want to talk to you about something.”

Krem ran his hand over his face and sighed. “What did he do? I _knew_ I shouldn’t have left him here.”

“Well, there was an incident with a pot, but it was an accident. No big deal. No, this is something else.” He sat down and looked Krem in the eye, the way he had when Krem was eleven and the judge made the final sentencing on his parents, the way he had when he explained sex, and all the other times when it was something he thought Krem needed to know, no matter how uncomfortable it might be at the time. “I like your friend.”

“Yeah. Okay, Dorian’s not so bad, I guess.”

“No, I mean, I like your friend and he likes me, but I didn’t want to do anything until we had a chance to talk about it because it’s kind of,” he raised his hand and tipped it back and forth.

“Creepy?” He wasn’t proud that that was the first word that came to mind, the first word he said out loud, but there it was. “Dorian? He’s,” an asshole and kind of fucked up and, “we’re the same age.

Bull had the decency to look away. “Yeah. Yeah, but he’s funny and a little sad and I like him.”

“Oh, sweet Maker,” Krem tried to scrub out the idea of Dorian and his dad being fuck buddies. “You know he’s got, like, issues on issues, right? He might think he’s okay with something casual, but he’s going to get attached real quick cause that what he does and--” he stopped when Bull’s expression shifted. 

“I wasn’t thinking of something casual.”

“Oh, Maker, you’re not telling me you want to fuck him. You want to date him. You think you can _fix_ him.” Dorian was such an _asshole_. He didn’t like normal things, he was _terrible_ with new people. He always had to be right. He needed help, all kinds of help, and was too fucking proud to ask for it. It was fine as long as he was just Felix’s friend. But now he wanted to date Krem’s dad, which was just, it was just. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. None of his business, really. They were both adults and it was weird and kind of fucked up, but not really any of his business. “I left you alone for three days.”

“What can I say? I’m very likeable.” He dropped his grin and leaned in. “But if this is too weird for you or whatever, I can let it go.” 

“You don’t have to do that. I’m not a little kid anymore and you don’t have to change your life to make me happy.” 

Bull stood and pulled him into a one armed hug. “Aw, kid. I’m always going to want to make you happy.”

“It’s weird, but whatever. Try not to get hurt. Dorian’s made of sharp edges.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so, I'm pretty sure this doesn't require a change in rating, but let me know if you think it should.
> 
> Happy Tuesday!

The power went out in the middle of the night. The absence of sound woke Dorian from an uneasy sleep. He could almost feel the heat bleeding out into the storm and wondered how long it would be before the house lost all of it’s warmth. He sat up, trying to remember where Bull had said he could find the extra blankets and then jumped when someone knocked on his door. 

“Come on,” Bull poked his head in the room. “Power’s out. Everybody needs to move to the living room. Bring your blankets and shit. I’ll get the fire going.” 

Despite the chill and the promise of heat, Dorian lingered in the room. The idea of being in a room, all four of them together, now that everyone knew he was interested in Bull almost made the cold bed seem appealing. He knew, though, that someone, possibly Bull, most likely Felix would come drag him out.

He gathered up his blankets and pillows and went to find the living room transformed. Bull was at the fireplace where the heat was already filling the room. The couch and coffee table had been moved back and a mass of blankets and pillows were strewn across the floor. Krem was already tucked under covers, drowsy and nearly asleep. Felix, though, was wide awake and jerked a little every time the wind blew too hard against the house.

Once the fire was roaring, Bull found his place on the floor, and was out just as quickly as Krem had been, leaving Dorian and Felix wide awake. Dorian focused on the flames so he wouldn’t be tempted to examine the sleeping features of Bull, soft and relaxed. Almost open. 

Felix shifted closer to him, so they could speak without waking the others. “You know, if you wanted to work out your father issues, you could have been a little less on the nose.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Dorian hissed, unable to pin down his irritation. He’d always made terrible choices in his personal attachments. Felix was about the only friendship he’d been able to maintain before he left Tevinter and only because they’d never slept together. Dorian had spent years choosing partners designed to infuriate his parents, or the terribly pretty ones who were nothing but trouble. For all outward appearances, Bull seemed to fit into that long line of provocative and bad decisions.

But it didn’t feel that way. When he spent time with Bull, when they talked, it was like he mattered. The only thing anyone had ever wanted him for was his body and his influence. Bull wanted his body, but he also wanted to talk to him about classes and the future and movies.

“You know I’m your friend and I support you, but this could really fuck things up if you don’t handle it the right way. That’s Krem’s dad. As in, my boyfriend's dad. It’d be like if Lace started dating your mom.”

Dorian snorted at the image. “It’d be good for her, I think.” He hope Felix would take the bait and they could move off the conversation. He wasn’t entirely settled in his own mind about what he wanted. It was too new and too untested. He didn’t want to break it down with Felix in the middle of the night.

“I'm not kidding. I think what I have with Krem is,” he sighed and dropped his voice. “It’s real, you know? And I don’t want it put in jeopardy when,” he trailed off and waved a hand in Dorian’s direction.

There was a sharp twist in his stomach at Felix’s words. “When what?” If he thought for a moment Dorian was going to let it go, or make it easier for him, well, fuck him anyway.

Felix sighed. “You know I want the best for you. But you don’t exactly end things on good terms. Historically.”

“That’s not,” he stopped, heaved out a sigh, because it _was_ true. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It was stupid anyway. You think Krem would drive me back to campus when the snow clears? Or I could take a bus, I guess.” He shuddered at the thought of the long ride, squeezed in next to a stranger. It would be better, though, better than staying in the mess he’d made of things. He should have never come.

He leaned back against the couch and let his head fall back so he could stare at the ceiling. The tiny, perfect daisy chain of flower painted along the edge of the wall by the ceiling was not at all charming. 

“Dorian.” Felix shifted until they were sitting shoulder to shoulder. “I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t want you to leave.”

“You just don’t want me to date Bull.” He feels selfish and petulant by turns. Why shouldn’t he have something he wants? And why did he always have to go after things that hurt other people?

Felix made a low, sympathetic sound.“I want you to be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Oh, my fucking--Are you two going to bond all Maker damned night? I’m trying to sleep.” Krem threw a pillow in their direction.

“Your aim’s still shit, kid,” Bull laughed. “Good thing you’re a swimmer.”

Dorian buried his face in his hands. “Is everyone awake?”

“Hard to sleep with the two of you carrying on.” Bull sat up. “Are we up? Are we doing this? Should I go get the marshmallows and shit?”

Krem, who hard started to whine and drag a blanket over his face, sat up with a grin. “Yes. Marshmallows and shit, please.”

So they spent the early hours of the morning roasting marshmallows and drinking hot chocolate made over the flames. Dorian spent most of his time feeling awkward and exposed, but no one said anything or treated him any differently, so by the time the snow started to wind down and the sun started to come out, he felt almost normal.

“All right.” Bull stood and clapped his hands together. “Campfire breakfast and then we’ll all get to work.”

Krem groaned. “Dad. It’s vacation.”

“Does it look like the snow took a vacation? If we all work together, we can get the street cleared by dark.”

Dorian was hesitant to ask, but “Street cleared?”

“Shoveling. You’re going to hate it,” Krem said, not unkindly.

*

Shoveling, it turned out, was terrible. It was both freezing and sweaty work. The snow was deceptive: it looked light, but made his back ache in the first hour after shifting it out of his way. His hands were sore from holding the shovel, his nose would not stop dripping. He’d lost all feeling in his feet and the knit hat crammed down around his ears was ruining his hair.

Bull’s neighbors came out as they cleared the way to their doors with gifts of coffee and hot chocolate and cookies once the power came back on. Bull beamed and laughed, moving snow like it was nothing, like the work was nothing.

Dorian hated every living second of it. 

Well. Most of it. Around noon, Bull took off his coat and finished working without a shirt, not seeming to notice the cold. That was pretty nice.

When Bull finally called it a day, the sidewalks to Bull’s street were clear, driveways drivable and Dorian was so exhausted, he thought he might die. He leaned against the front door, hardly believing the heat inside the house after the freezing air outside, and just watched the other start to divest themselves of their winter gear. 

“You know. People have heart attacks doing this kind of shit. Every year. Watch. It’ll be on the news tonight.” Krem hung up his scarf with more force than was necessary, but he was careful to set his boots gently on the floor.

“Yeah. Old people. People with heart conditions. People like our neighbors.” It sounded like an old argument, and there was no heat in either of their voices. “Go get cleaned up. I’ll start dinner.”

Krem grabbed Felix’s hand and pulled him toward the bathroom leaving Dorian to try and muster the energy to do something.

“You okay, there, big guy?”

Dorian looked up from his contemplation of his gloves and found Bull close, right up in his personal space. “Yeah. I think I hurt my hand.”

Bull helped ease him out of his coat and scarf, pulled the hat from his head and smoothed back the hair there. He then took Dorian’s hands in his own and tugged off the gloves. He hissed. “Why didn’t you say something?”

The skin on his palms had blistered and split leaving a bloody mess. Now that he could see it, the distant ache was sudden and acute. “We needed to get done.”

Bull sighed and led him into the kitchen. He guided Dorian to the sink, gripped his hips and deposited him on the counter like he weighed nothing. Dorian was pretty sure if he wasn’t so exhausted he would have been painfully turned on.

“Krem scowled at me the last time I was on the counter.”

Bull ran some water and gathered a first aid kit. “Yeah, that's cause I never let him sit on the counter. That’s reserved privileges.”

“Oh. Am I special, then?” 

Bull humed. “Don’t fish.” 

He let Bull wash his hands, tense and ready for the pain that never really came. It stung under the water, but Bull was gentle and there were ointment and bandages in place before he knew it. 

When he finished, he placed Dorian’s hands softly on the counter. “There.”

“It’s a shame. Such good work, I’ll have to undo it all when I shower.”

Bull nodded and took a step closer. Dorian spread his legs to give him more room. “It’ll be a while. Krem is a master at draining the hot water tank.” He leaned in and planted his hands on either side of Dorian’s thighs. “You did good today. For someone who’s never shoveled before.”

“It doesn’t snow much in Tevinter.” Bull was like a lodestone, drawing him in. His body was wide and it put a delicious ache in his hips and thighs to accommodate their closeness. “And even if it did, I imagine we would have had people for that.” A thrill of want traveled from the warm points of contact--his knees to Bull’s hips, Bull’s hand on his waist. There was _so much_ bare skin, chilled from the cold outside but Dorian could feel the core of heat beneath. 

Dorian has had a lot of sex. From languid sessions in opulent bedrooms and quick blowjobs in public restrooms. He is absolutely no stranger to the touch of a man’s hand on his cheek, his throat, his chest. The feel of another man against him. 

He felt like the worst kind of cliche when Bull leaned in, single eye focused so intently on him, and brushed their lips together bringing him the sudden revelation that he’d been doing it wrong all along. It wasn’t that Bull was older. Dorian’s been with men older than Bull. He appreciated a bit of silver in a dark mess of hair, fine lines at the corner of the eyes. He knew, okay? He got that there were probably some unresolved issues there. But that wasn’t the point. Kissing Bull is like a master class in what he’d been doing wrong his whole life, apparently.

All of the exhaustion he felt after hours and hours of shoveling disappeared as Bull’s hands came up to cup his jaw and their mouths moved together. 

For the most part, all of the kissing Dorian had done had been a prelude to something both parties wanted more. A social nicety along the lines of sexual small talk. But Bull kissed him like it was the only thing he wanted to do. Like it was the only thing that mattered. His lips slid over Dorian’s mapping out something Dorian couldn’t understand. 

Their breath mingled. Bull’s left thumb made slow, maddening circles against Dorian’s cheek. When Dorian opened his mouth to draw in air, Bull’s tongue swiped at the entrance, testing, teasing until Dorian drew that surprisingly mobile tongue into his own mouth. He clutched at Bull’s shoulders, trying to draw him closer, trying to drag them together. He hooked his legs around the firm muscle of Bull’s thighs and drew him in.

Bull hummed, the vibration of it moving through Bull’s body into Dorian’s leaving him shivering and wanting.

“I’ve got to start dinner.”

Dorian blinked. Blinked again. “What?” It had sounded like words, but Dorian couldn’t put them into context.

“I’d love to take this further, big guy, but I’ve got to start dinner.” He hadn’t moved away, spoke his words directly into Dorian’s mouth. 

“That is,” he licked his lips and inadvertently tasted Bull’s in the process. “That is unacceptable.”

“Yeah, I know. But that doesn’t make it any less true.” Bull’s hands left the cradle of Dorian’s face and instead smoothed down his neck and chest. “Didn’t mean to take it so far when I didn’t have to time to do it right.”

Dorian leaned back to both put a little needed distance between them and so he could clearly look Bull in the eyes. “Is this some kind of bullshit power trip thing?” Cause he’d been with guys who did that, who got off on trying to control Dorian because he was younger and it wasn’t cute. “Cause it’s not cute.”

The apologetic smile slid off Bull’s face, replaced with something like regret and Dorian tried not to feel guilty. “Hey, no. That’s not it. I’m sorry.” He took a step back. “It’s my bad. I shouldn't have started anything when I knew it wasn’t the time.”

“There are two of us in this room. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want. And you said Krem will be in the shower for a while. How long could it take--” He’d never spent so much time talking about sex instead of having it.

“That’s not it. We’ve been out in the cold all day, doing hard work. I don’t want you to pass out just when things get good because I didn’t feed you. And it’s not about getting it over with. Not for me. I like to take my time.”

Dorian hooked his leg around Bull’s and drew him close. “And what about what I like? You trying to tell me what’s best for me?”

Again Bull eased off, not physically that time, but some of his intensity dropped away. “Not trying to tell you what to do, big guy. I like the anticipation. I like it slow. That’s me.” He ran a considering gaze over Dorian, and Dorian was profoundly grateful that the flush of blood he could feel in his face wouldn’t show on his skin. “And you’re right. It is kind of a dick move not to think about what you want.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against the shell of Dorian’s ear. “What do you want?”

A horrifying, embarrassing moan escaped him when he opened his mouth to answer. Instead of laughing, as would have been the appropriate response, Bull flicked his tongue against Dorian’s ear. 

“Tell me.”

How he could go from irritated and exasperated to desperately turned on what a testament to Bull’s draw. “Uh,” he reached out and his hands gripped the snug material of Bull’s jeans. “Touch me,” he stuttered. His head arched back as Bull licked a line down his throat. “Please.”

“Yeah, I can do that.” He nipped at the point of Dorian’s collarbone as he slid his hand, all firm pressure and fire up Dorian’s leg. He squeezed the muscle of Dorian’s thigh and then palmed Dorian’s hardness through his jeans. “Like this?”

Dorian thought he responded, thought he nodded, but he couldn’t remember. Bull continued to touch him, though, so the point must have gotten across. With nimble fingers, Bull worked open his jeans, dove past his briefs and drew Dorian’s cock out into the open air. He made an appreciative sound, stroked him from root to tip then ducked his head down.

“Wait,” Dorian couldn't believe that he was trying stop the proceedings, but Bull pulled back, hands off and still. “I haven’t showered.” And the shoveling had been sweaty work.

Bull grinned and leaned down, his horns bracketing Dorian in the most pleasantly thrilling way. “I like it,” he said, as his tongue followed the same route as his hand. 

Bull had been phenomenal at kissing. But it left his skills at blowjobs in the dust. Dorian could only hang on, on hand wrapped tightly around one of Bull’s horns, the other clutching the edge of the counter as Bull worked him with his mouth and hands. A steady stream of sounds left his mouth, not even close to resembling words. Within moments he was on the edge and the pleased rumble from Bull, vibrating through Dorian’s thighs and along his cock was all it took to push him over.

He spilled into Bull’s mouth, his vision darkening around the edges. He was aware of Bull standing swiftly, one huge hand reaching out to catch the back of his head before it could crack against the wall when his body seemed to not want to stay upright. Bull lifted him from the counter and settled him into a chair that was far more supportive, and then took the time to wipe him clean and tuck him away.

Bull was frowning, just a bit, when Dorian’s vision cleared some time later. 

“Worth it,” Dorian grinned

“You wouldn’t take me seriously if I said I warned you.” Bull crossed his arms over his chest, but Dorian couldn’t find it in himself to be chastised. 

Instead of responding, he leaned forward and pressed his face into the meat of Bull’s thigh. “Are you sure I can’t return the favor?” The hard length of Bull’s erection was close, if Dorian shifted, he could rub his cheek against it.

Bull drew in a breath, his hand threading through Dorian’s hair. “Later. I can wait. You sit there and look pretty while I get some food going before you pass out for real.”

“Worth it,” he repeated, appreciating the view as Bull turned away.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, everyone, this is the chapter that earns the 'Aclassi's transphobia' tag and find out the sort of general awfulness that led to Krem ending up in Bull's care. If this is a hard line for you, the first part of the chapter is a bit of sexy fluff, but skip basically everything after the break. You can message me for an outline, if you want to know what happens without actually reading it and I'll be happy to send that along.
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who's reading and kudoing and commenting, it's honestly so lovely. If you have questions or whatever, I'll do my best to answer and if you see mistakes, it doesn't upset me to have you point them out. Most of my Dragon Age fic is unbetad, so, yeah.

“It’s weird, right?”

Krem covered his face his his hands and tried not to think about it. 

“It’s not just me. It’s weird.”

Bull’s laugh echoed up the stairs, loud enough to breach the closed door. “Yes, Felix. It’s weird. Can we not talk about it, please?”

Felix shifted until he was mostly on top of Krem and pulled his hands away from his face. The weak light from the bedside lamp cast him in soft, sweet shadows. “Can I interest you in something else, then?”

“What did you have in mind?”

The weight of him increased just a bit, just enough for Krem to really feel him, as he leaned in and suck slow, wet kisses against Krem’s throat and up to his ear. “I’d very much like to suck your cock. I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

Heat flared through Krem’s body. He bucked, up rubbing as much of himself against Felix as he could manage. “Well. It _is_ your vacation. You should get to do what you want.” As if Felix was not a master with his mouth. As if he couldn’t either get Krem off in a matter of moments or work him with his tongue for hours, depending on their mood. 

Felix pushed up from his exploration of Krem’s neck and stared down into Krem’s eyes, a wicked, wicked smile on his face. “If I get to have what I want, then what I really want is for you to fuck my face.”

Krem swallowed hard, and rolled them so Felix was pressed to the mattress and Krem was the one leaning over him. “It does make me happy to give you what you want.” Felix was already mostly naked clothed just in his boxer briefs, so it was just the work of a moment to strip him down, before pulling his own clothes off. Krem took a moment to admire the long stretch of Felix’s legs and the taut lines of his stomach. Then he straddled Felix’s face, thighs snug on either side of his jaw, and gripped the headboard tight as Felix went to work. 

“Maker, you’re so fucking,” he gasped as Felix dug his fingers into Krem’s thighs. He tried to keep still, tried to give Felix room to maneuver and breathe. The part of his face that Krem could see was already flushed, but his eyes were bright, creased in the corners as they were when he was most happy. 

His fingers ached from his hold on the headboard, the only thing grounding him enough to keep from moving. Then, Felix tapped his thigh and Krem backed off immediately, studying Felix’s face for signs of distress, checking his breathing.

Felix only smiled. “When I said I wanted you to fuck my face, I didn’t mean you had to hold yourself back.”

“I’ll hurt you.” He could imagine the trip to the emergency room for neck injuries or oxygen after Felix was smothered. It wasn’t the kind of thing he wanted to explain to the emergency staff, or anyone else in the house who’d be there for the drama.

Felix shook his head, lips swollen and gleaming. “I like it. I like the pressure and being completely overwhelmed by you. You won’t hurt me. And I’ll tap out like I just did if I need to. Please?”

He throbbed with want. “You know we’re supposed to discuss shit like this before we get naked, right?” It was too easy to be swept up in the desire of his body, of Felix’s desire, when the were in the middle of things. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” Felix ran his fingers up and down Krem’s thighs. “I didn’t think it would be a thing. We don’t have to right now, I’m good waiting, if it’s something you think you want to do in the future.”

The future. It was such a good sound. And he did want. “Tap out if it gets too much,” he leaned in and stared into Felix’s eyes. “Promise.”

“I swear.” He wrapped his arms around Krem and dragged him in. “Now come here, I’ve wanted you all day.”

Krem settled back over Felix’s face and under the coaxing of Felix’s hands ground down into the warm, wet pressure of his mouth. He kept his grip on the headboard, but instead of using it as a way to hold himself back, the hold gave him extra leverage. 

Beneath him, Felix moaned happily, the vibrations running all through Krem’s body. Felix’s hands ran hot over every part of Krem he could reach and it was too intense, too close. Everything was so fucking bright. He was so fucking full of want and desire and love for Felix, who not only seemed to know what he wanted, but worked at it when things weren’t obvious. He was patient and adventurous and his manners hid an ocean of wickedness. 

Krem thrust into Felix’s mouth, against his tongue, letting go, trusting Felix. Trusting him with his body, trusting him to know if it was too much. Trusting him with everything he had. Felix’s hands and mouth were never still as he coaxed Krem closer and closer to the edge, riding the fine line where Krem wanted the feeling to last forever and craving the rush of completion just as intensely.

He reached behind him, grasping Felix’s cock with one hand, stroking fast and tight. Felix jerked, moaned, and that was all it took for Krem, his muscles tightening and the swell of his orgasm rushing through him as Felix came in his hand as well.

Krem drew away, and examined Felix’s flushed, shining face. He looked blissed out, as boneless as Krem felt. “Was that okay?”

“You’re perfect,” Felix said, his hand trailing weakly against Krem’s face. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

His stomach tightened at the careless honesty and he covered it with a grin. “Yeah, well.” He flopped down on the bed and curled into Felix’s warmth. “It’s your turn to clean up.” He expected a playful argument, but instead, Felix heaved himself from the bed and padded over to the bathroom. 

Felix returned, clean, with a cloth for Krem. He kissed Krem softly, tasting faintly of mouthwash. “For you, I’d do anything.” His hands were so soft and so gentle as he wiped Krem down and then tucked him in his arms, drawing the blanket over them. “I love you. I love you so much,” whispered against Krem’s hair as Felix held him almost crushingly tight, as if Krem might try to escape. As if there was anywhere else in the world he wanted to be than right there in Felix’s arms. 

“I love you, too.” He didn’t know it was possible to feel so much, so intensely. So much that the words themselves felt too weak to express it. So, he tightened his hold on Felix in return and let the sound of his quiet, even breaths lull him to sleep.

*

Krem woke well before dawn, all of the warmth and peacefulness of the night before gone. His stomach was tight and upset and his body too tense to enjoy the slack, sleeping form of Felix curled against him. He lasted all of ten minutes before slipping out of bed and into the shower where the hot water pounded out the sound of his own thoughts.

Downstairs, Bull was already in the kitchen with a stack of pancakes at the ready. It was nice, just the two of them in the still, dark morning. They didn’t talk. Krem couldn't think of anything to say other than his own fears about the coming day, how he was still overwhelmed by his love for Felix, and his morbid curiosity about how things were going with Dorian. 

Bull put away a decent plateful of pancakes and was kind enough not to comment when Krem picked at the single pancake on his own plate. 

“You going to be okay today?” Bull put his plate in the dishwasher and rescued Krem’s mutilated breakfast before he could do more damage.

“Yeah. It’ll be fine.”

Bull came back to the table and wrapped an arm around Krem’s shoulders and squeezed tight. He kissed the top of Krem’s head. “I love you, kiddo. Call me if you need me. You want to talk when you’re done, you need a ride, you want to go out, you call and I’ll be there.”

He swallowed hard. “Thanks, dad. Love you, too.”

Bull must have caught the note of worry in his voice, he was always too perceptive. He straightened and took Krem by the shoulders and looked at him, really looked at him until Krem felt like he was the only thing in the room, the only thing that mattered. “What are we?”

Krem swallowed. “We’re more than other people’s choices.”

“Damn right.” Bull squeezed his shoulders just once and then headed out for work.

If only Krem could have left for the meeting right then. But he had hours and hours to kill before he was supposed to show up and it left him as restless and anxious. Half a dozen times his hand strayed toward his phone to call Bull, just to hear his voice, but he always turned away, choosing instead to try and distract himself by watching Felix and Dorian play video games or argue over movie choices.

Finally, finally it was time to go. He stood fast enough that Dorian jumped. “I’m going to go. You guys be okay for a couple of hours?”

Felix nodded and then stood. “I’ll walk you to the car.”

Krem shoved his hands into his pockets to keep his tight fists out of view. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate Felix’s attempts to be supportive or whatever, but he didn’t want to talk about it, he didn’t want to think about it. And having Felix hover at his shoulder wasn’t really helping either one of those desires.

“Hey.” Felix leaned in and stroked his hand down Krem’s side, careful but not hesitant. “Drive safe.”

A breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding eased out of his chest. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be a dick.” He should know better than to let them influence his actions. Bull was used to his angry silence and hands-off attitude when he had to go see them. Felix had never been around for it and it must have been confusing for Felix to go from their closeness the night before to Krem’s silent distance. Hell, he’d only told Felix the bare outline of the story during their mid semester break when he’d gotten a letter from the Orlesian government regarding his citizenship. “We can go ice skating when I get back?”

“Whatever you want to do.” He looped his finger through Krem’s and tugged the smallest amount, easy enough to ignore if he wanted. Krem didn’t want to ignore it, instead leaning in for a lingering kiss.

The warmth of Felix’s regard stayed with him as he drove the mostly cleared streets. His parents lived on a narrow side street, as part of a row of homes, somewhere near the middle of the street. Half the neighbors made no attempt to keep their tiny square patches of lawn tidy, while the others over groomed and decorated, clearly blocking off the boundaries of ours-versus-theirs. His parents made no attempt in either direction. The grass was trimmed, but not overly manicured, and there were no signs, or statues, or stone formations to mark it as different.

Their street had not been as fortunate in the snow removal process, and Krem had to park a block away, squeezing into a half-shoveled space that only worked because his car was small. He trudged up the icy sidewalk, thinking that it would be fitting if he fell and broke a bone on the way to their door. He kind of almost wished it would happen just so he could avoid the meeting all together.

But his steps were steady and sure and he made it up the walk to the door without incident. He knocked lightly, at the exactly appointed time and waited. And waited. A minute passed, then another. “You wanted to see me,” he hissed at the closed door, hunching his shoulders up around his ears in the cold and turning away.

The door opened to his turned back. “Oh, there you are,” his mother said, as if he hadn’t been standing waiting, as if he hadn’t knocked. “Come in out of the weather.” She held the door open and Krem was overwhelmed by the sense memory of his childhood.

The home wasn’t the small house they’d had in Tevinter, and it wasn’t the smaller apartment they’d shared when they first arrived, but it smelled the same. Maybe it was the collection of all the same furniture, or the same spices used in cooking meal after meal. Or maybe it was his parents themselves, the scent of the two of them cramped and knocking around together.

She reached up as the door closed and ghosted her fingers over the shorn edges of Krem’s hair. “Still so short.” She dropped her hand and touched her own hair, long and unbound, greying though still thick.

“Yep.” Because there wasn’t anything else to say. “Smells good,” he said instead, polite and calm. Polite and calm. He wasn’t there to start a fight. He was there for tea and a little bit of food and that was all.

“Oh, your father’s been in the kitchen all morning. You know how he loves to bake.”

The thing he hated the most about visiting his parents was the air of forced familiarity. There were things he remembered about them, anecdotes from when he was very small, things he picked up over the years, but for the most part it was a lot like visiting the parents of his friends from high school. He sort of knew them, knew enough about them to be uncomfortable.

She led him through the living room that doubled as a dining room--the narrow house too small for a formal dining area--to see tea already waiting in a pot, and the table laden down with sweet and savory dishes. His dad came in, bearing what Krem hoped was the last tray of food and nodded to him. “Good to see you.”

They didn’t say his name. They never said his name. After a shouting match a couple years ago when Krem threatened to never speak to them again, they don’t call him by his birth name anymore, but they never said his name. It was like being a ghost in the house, a presence that was acknowledged, if not welcome.

Krem served the tea as his mother dished out plates of food. His dad insisted he try a bit of everything, and honestly, the food was good enough that Krem didn’t mind. They talked, after a couple of false starts about his swimming for the season and his classes. He talked about his internship and dodged questions about the future. He listened as they talked about their own work, and stories about the people they knew, all strangers to Krem.

It seemed like it was going to be a peaceable meeting, all things considered. And then his mother touched his shoulder as she cleared away the last of the dishes. “Your father tells me you were with a young man when he saw you at the carnival. He said he looked like he might be from Tevinter.” There was a gross note of approval in her voice.

“Yes. Felix.” He stood, prepared to make his goodbyes before the afternoon soured. Anyone else and he’d be pulling out his phone to scroll through picture after picture of Felix. But the carefulness of her expression, the way his dad shifted on the edge of the room made him anxious. “Thank you for having me, but I have to be going, now.”

His mother took his hand, grip just strong enough to keep him from stepping away easily. “You know we just want what’s best for you. Wouldn’t it be easier, since he’s a man--”

Krem took a step back and yanked his hand away. He was grateful when she stopped speaking and then he was furious with himself for being grateful. “I have to go.”

He didn’t remember the walk back to the car or the drive to Bull’s work, but there he was, idling in the parking lot looking at the front door to the building. Reckless to drive like that, but it was already done, so he shut off the car and stomped inside.

The warehouse smelled the electricity and hot metal. Industrial lights illuminated the floor where half a dozen of Bull’s people were working on various projects, the arc of their weld sparking out and across the floor. A couple of them waved and Krem nodded, tight lipped, until he was at the door to Bull’s office.

Bull was on the phone when Krem opened the door. He took one look at Krem and dropped the call with a quick, “I got to go. My kid’s here.” He stood and opened his arms for Krem who kind of collapsed into a hug. “Not good?”

“You’re my dad. You are my dad, not those, those fucking people. They don’t care. They never fucking cared. ‘We want what’s best for you.’ Have you ever heard a bigger load of shit?” His voice was thick with the tears he was just holding back and he shook trying to keep it all in.

He remembered being sixteen, in a brand new suit and tie that Bull had helped him pick out for the court date. He’d been with Bull for six years, his parents had been out of jail for a year and it was the meeting to decide Krem’s future. There had been dozens of home visits, individual and group interviews with every kind of official he could imagine. They'd squeezed in meeting after meeting in between swim meets and school work.

And he’d had to stand there and listen to a judge agree with them, say that it was best for Krem to stay with Bull, but that it wasn’t the judge’s ruling to forcibly revoke Krem’s parents’ parental rights. And since they wouldn’t give them up, he stayed, fostered with Bull, but not really his. Not in the eyes of the law.

They’d said it then, too. Everyone. They just wanted what was best for Krem, but none of them actually fucking listened to what he wanted. Bull was the only one to sit up with him when he couldn’t sleep. Bull was the one who helped him find clothes that fit right and called him Krem without hesitation. Bull was the only one not to just _say_ he wanted was was best, but to actually _act_ like it.

That wasn’t to say it had been easy. They’d fought from one end of the house to the other, over the phone and in person because Krem was just so fucking angry all the time and Bull had a hard time not giving back what he got. But they both worked through their shit in therapy, which was more than Krem could say for his parents. His ex-parents.

“Can I divorce my parents? Is that a thing?”

Bull tightened his grip and cupped the back of his head. “I don’t know, but I’ll find out.”

“I don’t want to see them again.” He swallowed against the sour taste in his mouth, the lingering sweetness of dessert overlaid by their complete disregard of him as a person.

“Okay. Surprised it took this long, to be honest. Guess I shouldn’t be, you hold on to shit like a dog with a bone.”

“Yeah, a dog too stupid to let go.”

“Hey, now. Let’s not with that, okay? You’re not stupid. They’re your parents. That’s a big deal.”

Krem shook his head, smearing his tears against the front of Bull’s shirt. “One: they tried to sell me to pay off their debts.”

“Yep.”

“Two: they refused to give up their parental rights after they got out of prison.”

“Yep, again.”

“Three: they don’t call me by my name.”

Instead of an affirmative answer, Bull pulled back just a bit and wrapped his hands to hold Krem’s face. “Cremisius Aclassi.”

“So.” He snorted in a breath trying to clear his nose. “So, fuck ‘em.”

“That’s my boy.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, everyone! I had hoped to knock out a bunch of the WIPs I have in my dragon age folder before the end of the year and return to work, and then I got sick on New Years Eve which kind of killed all my productivity. But we're moving right along here with a new chapter.
> 
> We're nearing the end now with just one or two more sections to go because I can call this one done. Thanks so much for following along with me <3

Felix was restless while Krem was gone and nothing Dorian did could distract him for more than a few minutes. So Dorian did what he did best, he made it about him.

“I think I’m fucking things up.” How could he not, when just one night in the man’s bed made him never want to leave? Made him imagine things that he thought would never be his own. Made him think about tomorrow and the next day and the _future_ , with everything that it possibly entailed. 

And it wasn’t just the sex, though that had been incredible and fun and prodigious. Just the memory of a single moment of their time together was enough to flush Dorian’s whole body with desire. But it was more than that. He felt comfortable in Bull’s presence. He felt wanted, of course, he often felt that with his partners--it was part of his appeal. But the way that Bull focused down on him, like he was the only important thing in the whole world was a revelation. 

And also a problem. Because he wasn’t the only important thing in Bull’s world. As evidenced by Bull leaving the bed when it was still dark out to make breakfast for his son and then head off to work. Bull had priorities that Dorian could never surpass. He was sliding in too fast, too fully and he had the potential to tear a lot of things down with him as he crashed. 

Felix turned from his contemplation of the window. “What?” 

“I think I’m fucking things up. I think this is a terrible fucking idea.” He’d never let someone in so close so quickly. He’d never spent the sleepy window between dreams and waking thinking about someone's hands. He’d never introduced someone to Felix so quickly--hadn’t introduced someone to Felix since their freshman year, when he’d been flush with the freedom of dating without shame, when Rilienus was beautiful and sweet and didn’t want to keep him a secret. He’d been a senior and Dorian knew it wasn’t going to last. He had toyed with the idea of asking Rilienus to stay after graduation, change his plans for grad school on the other side of Thedas, but he never did work up the courage. 

After Rilienus, he went back to casual relationships, quick hook-ups, and tried his best not to want more. He thought he’d done a good job of it, too. Until he was in Bull’s house, surrounded by his things, the intense subject of his regard. And then, he _wanted_. 

“How so?” Felix asked in his best, most polite tone that did nothing to hide the fact that he thought Dorian was, in fact, fucking everything up. 

Dorian ran his hand over his face and tried not to think of Bull’s hands. “Bull is Krem’s dad.” 

“Well, it’s not like that's a surprise, Dorian.” 

“You’re angry.” That _was_ a surprise. Felix was often exasperated with him, or worried, or frustrated, but Dorian knew well the exact two times Felix had ever been angry with him. His stomach twisted and a clammy sweat broke out over his neck and forehead. 

Felix turned away, shoulders just the side of too tight. “You know I love you. You know you’re like a brother to me. I don’t say this lightly. But you can be really fucking selfish.” 

“Oh.” Dorian nodded, swallowed hard and nodded again. He pressed his lips together. He would not start crying. “Right.” 

“When you want something, you don’t think about what it’s going to do to the people around you. And for the most part, it’s worked out okay. But this,” he gestured with his left hand to encompass the living room, and Dorian couldn’t stop staring at the back of his head, couldn't stop listening and hoping the words would change. “When you get bored, this could end very, very badly. For all four of us.” 

What Dorian felt for Bull was different. It wasn’t just the flush of attraction when he met someone in a club. It wasn't just the bright flare of connection. He wanted to talk to Bull and listen to his stories and watch boring television. He wanted. And he thought Felix, who knew him best of all, would know the difference. 

Maybe it wasn’t different at all. Maybe Felix saw what Dorian was too selfish to see on his own. 

“You’re right.” He drew in a breath, proud that it didn’t shake. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I was, fuck.” How could he think of destroying Felix’s happiness for his own. He stood and grabbed his coat. “I’m going to go,” he motioned to the door, unable to stand the thought of being in the same space with Felix for another second. “I just need some air.” 

“Dorian.” Exasperated. More familiar territory. 

He flipped on a sunny smile, the one Aquinea had made him practice with her in front of a mirror for hours on end until it looked natural. “Just a quick walk around the block. You won’t even notice I’m gone.” He grabbed his phone and his wallet and walked out the door into the biting cold. 

To be honest, Dorian had intended just a walk around the neighborhood. He’d gone to a lot of trouble digging it out, seemed only fair that he got some use of the labor. But the longer he was out, the farther he was from Bull’s house, the harder it was to turn back. Felix’s words wouldn’t stop spinning in his thoughts. 

Before he really knew where he was, he was standing at the bus terminal two miles from Bull’s home. And then he was buying a ticket back to campus. And then he was on a bus riding through the darkening afternoon, thinking that he should have never come along in the first place. He turned off his phone, thinking spitefully that if Felix really cared about where he was, he would have tried to stop him before he left the house. He wedged himself into the uncomfortable space between the seat and the window and let the hum of the engine drown out his thoughts. 

It was dark, and late, when the bus pulled into the terminal. The sharp stop jolted Dorian out of his doze. He stood and stumbled off the bus. It was cold, but not as cold as it had been at Bull’s. He shoved his hands into his pockets and started the walk to his apartment. 

By the time he keyed into the apartment, it was almost midnight . They’d turned down the heat before they left, so there was a bite to the air inside, but it still felt like home. He dropped his keys on the table by the door, kicked off his shoes and dragged himself to his bed, counting his steps, counting his breaths, anything to keep from thinking about what he’d done. 

The lights were out, but the the halogen yellow of the streetlamp illuminated the bedroom. He stared at his phone, knowing he should turn it on. It had been hours. He cleared his throat, powered it on and waited. 

Fifteen text messages. Thirty-three missed calls. The last one missed by just ten minutes. 

Guilt twisted at him. 

Felix answered before the first ring finished. “Dorian. Are you okay? Where are you?” He sounded desperate, his voice hoarse. 

“Hi, sorry. I should have called.” 

“Maker, Dorian. You’ve been gone for hours. I thought something happened.” He was edging from worry to anger and Dorian pulled the phone away from his face with a grimace. 

“Yeah. You were right. I was just fucking things up by being there. So, um. I’m back at the apartment. I’m sorry for ruining your break. Tell Krem I’m sorry and Bull, tell Bull,” he stopped before his voice broke. He breathed through it and came out steady on the other side. “Tell him thanks.” 

He ended the call and put his phone face down on his night stand. In the morning, he’d go through and delete the voicemails and clear out the texts. He didn’t want to see them, didn’t want to deal with them in the dark. Everything was worse in the dark. 

Though he’d slept for most of the ride, he still felt weighed down by exhaustion, and it was easy to curl on his side, turned away from the streetlights and sleep. 

He woke in the dark, disoriented and still exhausted, to the sound of persistent knocking at the front door. Though tempted to ignore it, if it was Mrs. Haridan with her psychic cat from down the hall she wouldn’t leave until she spoke with Dorian about Harold’s dire predictions for his future. He pushed himself up and moved to the front door, not bothering with lights and making his way by feel and memory. He peered through the peephole out of reflex and stopped, his heart in his throat, unable to breathe. 

Bull was on the other side of the door. 

One hand was frozen halfway to the knob, the other pressed against the cheap wood hard enough that his fingers ached and the pressure bleached some of the color from his skin. He couldn’t imagine why Bull was there. Was he angry? Would it be better to pretend he slept through the knocking? 

“I can hear you breathing, big guy.” 

Dorian jerked back, and then closed his eyes tightly. 

“Listen, it’s okay if you don’t want to let me in. It’s kind of a creepy thing, showing up in the middle of the night. I get that. I was worried and I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” 

He tried to speak, but the words were stuck in his throat. He coughed and tried again. “I’m okay.” 

Bull nodded, took a step back. “Good. That’s good.” He scrubbed at his face with his hand and he looked so tired. “This is kind of shitty of me. Sorry.” He held his hand to the door, just the tips of his fingers caressing the front before he took a step back. 

Dorian lurched into action. He couldn’t let Bull walk away. No matter how he was feeling, Bull looked exhausted, and the stubborn man would likely try the drive back on his own, in the dark. He jerked open the door. “You don’t have to go.” 

“Feels like maybe I should. You did cross half the country to be by yourself.” 

Some unnameable feeling bubbled up from his chest and he rubbed at his sternum to quiet the rustling of his thoughts. “Come in. It’s cold and late. You shouldn’t be driving.” 

“Yeah.” Bull heaved a sigh, not filled with disappointment or resentment, just the escaped breath of the weary. “Yeah, okay.” 

Dorian backed away and headed to the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink? I’m making tea.” He needed to be busy and the soothing, repetitive motions of preparing tea filled the niche. 

“Tea is fine.” He came to sit on one of the bar stool, elbows planted on the counter, head tipped into one hand. 

A comment from one of their conversations sparked in Dorian’s memory and he dug through the cupboard for Felix’s expensive stash. “Hot chocolate?” 

A slow smile spread across Bull’s face. “Fuck yeah.” 

Neither of them spoke as Dorian went through the motions of making himself tea and hot chocolate for Bull. His was a simple matter of heating water and steeping, but Bull’s drink required more concentration. The milk hadn’t gone off, so he filled a small pan to heat over a low flame then began mixing the fine chocolate powder with a collection of warm spices. He measured and mixed, stirred and served Bull the largest mug they had. 

Only after it was in Bull’s hands did he think to ask about preference. “I made it how I like it. Let me know if you need more sugar, or if you don’t like it.” He grabbed his own mug and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, grateful for the counter space separating them. 

Bull too a sip, his eye slid closed and a low rumbling hum filled the space between them. “This is perfect. Most people down here make it too sweet, and don’t bother with anything but milk and chocolate.” He took another long sip. 

Secretly pleased, Dorian raised one shoulder in a half shrug and focused on the dark surface of his own drink. As the silence stretched and it seemed Bull wouldn’t be the one to break it, Dorian drew in a fortifying breath. “I’m sorry you to make you drive all the way out here. I didn’t mean to cause you so much trouble.” 

Bull...laughed. Delighted and not at all sarcastic. “Dorian.” He set down his mug. “I’ve had to deal with state sanctioned hitmen from the Qun, Orlesian immigration officers, and eight years worth of child services visits. One midnight drive for someone who’s hurting isn’t trouble. That’s a regular Tuesday night.” 

His mind stuttered over one of the words. “Hitmen?” 

“Yeah, the Qun doesn’t take to folks leaving so well.” He gestured toward Dorian with his cup. ‘What happened? You seemed fine when I left this morning.” He looked at the time on the microwave. “Or yesterday morning, I guess.” 

Dorian wanted to know more about the hitmen, but he had enough social training to know Bull had turned the conversation away from that point on purpose. Not that Dorian felt much like talking about the new topic. He took a sip of his tea, cooled now and slightly bitter, and stared at the ceiling so he wouldn’t have to look at Bull. 

The memory of Felix’s anger, the tightness in his chest when he thought of Bull’s smile, the impossibility of distance. They all mattered so much outside of the cozy warmth of Bull’s home. Like much of his life, it might have been good, but the timing was off. “It all seemed a bit ill advised in the light of day.” 

“Okay,” there was no pause from Bull, but his voice was precisely even. Had Dorian not grown up listening for just such tell, he would have assumed Bull felt nothing at all. “I get that. You scratched an itch and now it feels weird, but that doesn’t mean you have to spend Satinalia here by yourself. It won’t be weird. I’m so good at making it not weird.” 

It all felt a bit melodramatic now, after some rest and a little distance. He had never been all that good at living in someone else’s space. His family home had felt too much like a museum, each piece of furniture, each painting set out for the maximum amount of power and influence. Dorian himself had been a piece in that puzzle until he’d been too willful to play his part. 

The years living with the Alexius’ had been better, but he’d never been able to shake the feeling that he didn’t belong. He only had to look at the naked affection Gereon had for his wife and son to know that Dorian was a close friend, but not a part of the family. 

The dorms had been hell. His first year Dorian barely slept for the constant noise and strange smells. He’d never had to exist side by side with so many people. So many loud, smelly people. The apartment with Felix was better, he had his own space, and he shared with Felix long enough that it was comfortable. But there was still the constant reminder that it wasn’t his. Gereon paid for the apartment and again Dorian was living in borrowed space. 

Bull had been so welcoming that Dorian felt comfortable for the first time in his life. He felt like he wasn’t a bother. But that was just Bull being polite, being a good host. It seemed entirely within Bull’s character to have taken Dorian into his bed as part of his hospitality. He was free with his time and friendship, why not with his body? 

Dorian let himself get too comfortable and look at the result: the potential ruin of his best friend’s relationship and the arrival of this kind, kind man in the middle of the night to ask him if he was all right. 

“Feeling a bit foolish, if I’m honest.” 

“Yeah, I get that.” 

Dorian cleared his throat. The heat of his mug pooled in his fingers and palms, soothing, grounding. “I owe you an apology, I’m afraid.” 

Bull grunted and drained his mug. “I think we covered that.” 

“Ah, no. For something far greater than the inconvenience of your drive.” If there was one thing he was good at it was apologies. A lifetime of them, first at school, then to his parents. He knew how to put them together and sound sincere when he didn’t mean it. 

When the apology meant something to him, when he actually meant it, well. That was a rarer occurrence. “I took advantage of your hospitality. You opened your home to me and I treated that gift poorly. Felix will forgive me in time,” Felix could never stay angry for long. “I hope you and Krem will be able to do the same.” Were it a forced apology, he would be looking at Bull, full eye contact, face carefully controlled to show just the right amount of remorse. But because he felt this one, Dorian kept his eyes trained on the trembling surface of his tea, the outline of Bull’s body in the corner of his vision. His shoulders were level and not bunched up in readiness for attack only through every ounce of his will. 

There was a scrape of Bull’s stool and then Bull’s hand came to rest in the middle of his back. “Dorian.” He sounded, Dorian wasn’t sure. Sad? Exasperated? “Me spending time with you, the two of us, watching you fall apart when you came, that’s not hospitality. I like you. I told you I like you. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have bothered to check in with Krem about it. I only do that with stuff that matters. You matter.” He stroked, firm, the length of Dorian’s spine. “Now if you’re here because you want to be, because you got what you wanted from me, that’s fine. We’re good. But no one wants you to have to spend the next two weeks on your own because you’re feeling a little exposed, or nervous, or whatever this is.” 

He wanted to lean into the touch. He wanted. “You don’t think this is a terrible idea?” 

“If I thought this was no good, I wouldn’t be doing it.” 

Dorian sighed and turned to Bull, looking at him full on for the first time. How badly he wanted to reach out and touch his face. “But,” he stopped, waited. 

“But what?” Bull asked when it was clear Dorian wasn’t going to continue. 

He huffed out a little laugh. “This is usually the point when people hush me. I didn’t expect to get to continue.” 

“No, big guy. You got concerns, I want to hear them. Doesn’t mean I agree with them, but I want to know where your head’s at.” 

“Right.” Of course he was considerate. “Felix is very angry with me over this. And if Felix is upset, Krem must be furious. I don’t want to affect them just because I want,” he swallowed. “Just because I want you.” 

“Aw. Aw, hey, come here.” He tugged at Dorian, gentle, gentle pressure that Dorian could have resisted. Only he didn’t want to resist. “That’s it.” Bull pulled him into a hug that seemed to envelop his whole body. He smelled so good. “I want you, too. So, how about we focus on that for a little while. Felix might be upset, but Krem is good. And honestly, it’s kind of none of their business even if they don’t like it. We get to want things and no one is getting hurt.” 

“It can’t be that easy.” 

Bull hugged him tighter. “It can be.” 

There were so many unanswered questions. So many what ifs still spinning through Dorian’s thoughts. But he was tired and Bull was right there telling him he could have this. “Would you like to stay the night? What’s left of it, at least.” 

Bull kissed the top of his head. “II really, really would.” 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so clearly, my goal of getting my fandom stuff out of my WIP folder before the start of the new year was laughably ambitious. But! It's not quite February, so have another chapter!

“Would you come away from the window? Bull said they weren’t coming back tonight. Looking out isn’t going to make it happen.” Krem was exhausted. Physically, emotionally. He felt drained and empty and all he wanted to do was sleep. But Felix kept hovering at the window for more than an hour as if he could make Bull and Dorian appear at his wish. 

Felix turned away, took a half step toward the bed and then turned back. Of all the emotional breakdowns he expect to have to deal with on his trip home, including his own, Felix was kind of a surprise.

“Felix.”

 

He turned away, but reluctance etched every line of his body. “It was cruel. _I_ was cruel.”

Krem rubbed his hand over his heart and tried to keep his tone even. “Yeah, it was kind of a shit thing. But then, so was what Dorian did. He’s fine, we’re fine. Will you please, please just come to bed.”

Felix visibly shook himself and crossed the room to the bed. “I owe you an apology, too.” He collected Krem’s hand, thumbs smoothing away the tension and kissed his knuckles. “Are you feeling okay? You keep rubbing your chest.”

The pain wasn’t real. He dropped his hand. “Yeah, I’m okay.” It was a holdover from when he was younger and his body didn’t know how to process all he was feeling. At first, they thought maybe he’d had a heart condition, or something wrong with the bone and muscle structure in his chest. Rubbing at the site of the pain never really made it go away, but it was soothing a bit, in it’s way. And once he learned the pain wasn’t physical, it had been easier to ignore. 

Until it cropped back up at the end of a long, bad day, apparently.

“You sure? You’ve been doing it all day.”

Krem shook his head. “No, it’s just a thing, it’ll pass.” Normally, Felix’s hand on him were soothing. Felix had a gentle touch and could leech the tension out of Krem with a few, careful movements, but under the pressure of the day and the long, long night, Krem had to work not to flinch away from his touch. “Can we please go to sleep?”

“Yes, sorry. I’ve been terrible all around today.” He climbed in beside Krem and pulled up the blankets smoothing them, tucking them until Krem wanted to scream. 

It wasn’t Felix’s fault, he told himself, over and over as Felix settled, shifted, settled again. Krem was so tired, he just wanted to sleep, but the meeting with his parents was playing pretty much non-stop in the back of his mind, overlaid by Bull’s strong presence, plans to divorce them, plans to never see them again, overlaid by the email from Rainier & Blackwall asking again if he’d thought about their offer. And the mess with Dorian. The mess that would _always_ be Dorian.

He held still by force of will until Felix’s breathing evened and he slipped into sleep. It took a lot to wake Felix, once he was out, so Krem didn’t bother sneaking. He got out of bed and went downstairs to sit at the kitchen table, his laptop open to the email from Blackwall.

He wished Bull was there to talk. 

Instead, there was only the smooth surface of the kitchen table under his hands, and the hum of the refrigerator to keep him company. He had so many memories of sitting at the table: after school working his way through piles of homework; after practice letting Bull bandage his knees and deciding that maybe soccer wasn’t his sport; listening to Max sing as he made the only thing he knew how to cook--grilled cheese.

The creak of the stairs alerted him to Felix’s presence, and he closed the laptop. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I was, but then you were gone.” He settled across from Krem, eyes smudged dark from lack of sleep, mouth drawn tight with worry. “What’s going on?”

Krem shook his head and looked away. “Just thinking about stuff. Couldn’t turn it off.”

Felix reached across the table and took his hand, running his fingers over Krem’s knuckles. “Would talking about it help?”

It would, but he wanted Bull. Bull was always his first sounding board, the one who knew him best and helped him work through whatever he was thinking. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Felix, it was that, well. It was an unknown and maybe there was a little bit of him that was afraid Felix wouldn’t understand or think it was a big deal. Maybe it was a matter of trust.

But that was no way to be in a relationship. He opened his laptop and spun it around so Felix could read the email.

“Wow. Krem. This is, this is amazing. You worked so hard,” Felix shot up from his seat and came around the table to enclose Krem in a hug. “You’re so amazing. No one else is getting offers like this so soon.”

The swell of pride he felt was tempered by what was coming next. “I think I’m going to turn them down.” Which was weak, and also a lie. He didn’t think he was going to turn them down. He knew he was.

“What? Why?”

He rubbed at his chest while Felix sat down, hands still stretched across the table to touch him. “I liked it there, and I like engineering, but it’s,” he paused and looked at the ceiling, anywhere but at Felix’s kind face. It was the first time he was going to say it out loud to someone who wasn’t his advisor. “I don’t think it’s what I want to do with my life.”

Felix nodded slowly, with the face he got when he was processing long strings of incomprehensible numbers. “Okay. Do you know what you want to do?”

“I talked to some people at school and if I max out my credits this semester and take some stuff over the summer, I can get into a Masters program for social work.” He rushed ahead so Felix wouldn't have time to speak. “And I know the pay is shit and the burnout is high and it’s fucking ridiculous to walk away from this job offer when it’s what I’ve been working for, but I keep thinking about how hard it was for me when I was taken out of my parent’s house and what it was like when I was first living with Bull and the years and years of fucking meetings and court hearing and all of that shit. And Bull was great. Bull was fucking amazing. He sacrificed so much of his time and his like, life, to make sure I was okay, but it was still so hard and I keep thinking about it. And I keep thinking that maybe I’d be really good at it because I was on the other side for so long and maybe it’s time to stop running away from it. Like, teachers and stuff always used to ask if I was going to go into social work and it used to piss me off, like they were saying I wasn’t good enough for anything else, so I ran in the other direction. But I think this is something I actually really want to do.” He closed his eyes tightly and drew a long, slow breath, and waited.

The comforting grip of Felix’s hand on his own never wavered. “You’ve been sitting on that for a while, huh?”

The nervous churning in his stomach didn’t ease, but a small laugh did escape him at Felix’s wry tone. “A while, yeah.”

“Not to, uh, make this about me, but did you think I wouldn’t support you? Or that I wouldn’t understand?”

Krem looked away from the faint hurt in Felix’s eyes. “No. It was just,” he sighed. “I was keeping it to myself while I tried to work out what I wanted. And then the longer I left it, the bigger it got, and then suddenly I had this secret that wasn’t even--I mean, it’s not like I murdered someone. But it felt really big and I didn’t know how to bring it up. Not even Bull knows.” He should have found time to talk to Bull about it when he first got home. 

“Well,” Felix stood and pulled Krem up with him. “There’s no one at Blackwall & Rainier to take your polite decline. Bull’s not here and I can’t imagine he’d enjoy a call about this after the kind of day it’s been for all of us. So, come to bed and leave it for the morning. It’s always worse in the dark.”

Part of him wanted to refuse. To camp out on the couch with some mindless television until he fell asleep, but he also wanted to be wrapped around Felix, feeling the beat of his heart and the slow expanding of his chest with each breath. And he was so, so tired. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

*

It was almost noon by the time Krem woke the following day. He probably would have slept longer--his head felt heavy and his eyes were gritty--if not for the slam of the front door and the sounds of Bull returning. 

Krem left Felix to sleep and pulled on his clothes before heading downstairs. It was chilly in the house and the thick sweater felt a little like armor. In the kitchen, making coffee, Bull looked like Krem felt and Dorian. Dorian looked worse. 

“Hey,” he said as he dropped into a seat at the table. 

Dorian jumped, but Bull was already pulling his favorite mug from the cabinet. “Morning. Felix still sleeping?”

“Yeah.”

Bull finished the last of the prep for coffee and took a seat across from Krem. Dorian lingered at the counter, examining absolutely everything in the kitchen but the people. “So yesterday was pretty fucked.”

Krem nodded. “Yeah.”

“How you doing?”

He shrugged. As much as he’d wanted to talk in the middle of the night, faced with daylight he couldn't seem to dredge up more than a couple words. “Okay.”

Bull studied him for a long minute and Krem just blinked back at him, not upset, not really. Just, not quite online yet. “I’m going to throw some food together. You want to chop some firewood?”

Tension he hadn't known he was carrying flowed out of his shoulders. “Yeah. Yeah.” He stood and jerked his thumb toward the back yard. “I’ll be out back.”

Out in the cold, the firm grip of the axe in his hands and a growing pile of firewood at his side, Krem finally began to calm down. His first therapist, the shitty one who didn’t know how to deal with Krem at all, talked all about how Krem should be expressing himself. Suggested art classes and painting workshops. Handcrafts and journal writing. She wanted Krem to sit quietly and work on projects that let him focus on his inner self. Only Krem had been so jittery, he’d wanted to shake right out of his own skin when he had to sit too long. 

It was Bull who took him swimming the first time, Bull who signed him up for track, and archery and boxing. Anything physical that required focus _and_ motion. Eventually the need to keep moving had died down, but physical activity was still the best way to help him focus and calm his mind. 

He was aware of Dorian lurking at the edge of his workspace--far outside the range of the axe. He thought maybe Dorian might start, a fake cough to let Krem know he was ready, but he just kept standing, watching Krem methodically decimate the pile of wood. Finally, Krem tossed his freshly cut logs into the pile and turned. “What’s up, Pavus?”

Dorian’s hands were shoved into his pockets, how coat wrapped tight around him and one of Bull’s scarves tucked around his neck. He looked washed out and kind of hesitant. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. About yesterday. It was a difficult day for you and I didn’t make it any easier.”

He blew out a slow breath, watching it fog in front of him. “Having my own shit doesn’t mean everybody else's shit stops, right? It was, yeah, not great, Felix was really worried. I think he’s the one you should be apologizing to.”

Dorian shook his head, sharp and quick. “I’ll work things out with Felix, but it’s important that you know how sorry I am to have interrupted your break as well. You offered your home to me, you’ve been nothing but exceedingly kind, and I repaid you by inserting myself into your life and your family and then causing unnecessary drama.”

“Yeah, that’s not a great choice of words, there. I’d rather not have the details about what’s being inserted where.” He grinned at Dorian’s horrified flush. 

“I’m trying to apologize.”

Krem grabbed an armload of firewood to carry to the collection already piled on the back porch. “And I already told you it’s not a big deal. Could I have done without drama? Yeah. But it can’t be easy starting something new in a house with two other people. So, I get it. And it’s also really, really not my business. If I thought you were trying to take advantage-”

“I swear I’m not,” Dorian broke in, hand out as he took a couple steps across the porch.

“Calm down. I _know_ that. If I thought you were, I’d have a word with Bull and with you and that would be it. Since I don’t think that, you two can work it out on your own. I want him to be happy, and you’re my friend. I want you to be happy, too. And, well, it wouldn’t really be you if you didn’t make a big production out of it.”

Dorian looked to be at a loss. “Thank you,” he said, finally. “I’m given to understand that even without my drama, yesterday was something of a trial for you.” He ventured the words hesitantly, and very clearly did not expect an answer.

But Krem’s muscles were pleasantly sore and everything felt a little less jumbled. “Yeah. They were kind of the worst. I thought when I turned eighteen we were done with lawyers, but now I’ve got to figure out if I can divorce my parents because I don’t ever want anything to do with them. Kind of ever again.”

Instead of the sympathy or pity he was expecting, Dorian nodded. “Are you still a Tevinter citizen? Are they?”

“Uh, I’m Orlesian, but I honestly don’t know about them.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, one finger up to his lips in thought. “It might be worth the pain of one more conversation to find out. The rules governing that sort of thing are much stricter in Tevinter.” At Krem’s look he elaborated. “I looked into it when I moved here for school. Because I’m still a citizen of the Empire, as are my parents, it doesn’t matter how old I am. Father is the patriarch of the family and basically owns me until I inherit the estate. Were I an Orlesian citizen, I’d have more leeway.”

“Why haven’t you applied for citizenship?” He only knew the little that Felix had shared about Dorian’s family and of course what he’d gathered when Dorian’s father had hired a group of men to forcibly return him to Tevinter.

“Ah, you have to be able to prove your worthiness as an individual, and as a student, it’s much harder.” He sighed and turned to look out over the backyard. “And, to be honest, I’m not sure I’m ready to give up on my heritage just yet.” He affected a delicate shudder. “I can’t imagine myself as Orlesian.”

Krem dumped the last of the firewood in the pile and headed toward the door. “Could be worse. You could be Ferelden.”

His shudder was genuine that time. “Can you imagine?” he asked as he opened the door. 

The warm rush of heat from the house and the gentle waft of curry and rice from the kitchen hit Krem like a shoulder to the gut. 

Drawn down by the noise or the food, Felix was sitting at the table, chatting with Bull, the air easy between them. Not that Krem had been particularly worried they wouldn’t get along, but every once in a while there’d been someone who didn’t hit Bull quite the right way. People Krem liked well enough that Bull could hardly manage two words without an unconscious frown. It had been that way with his first girlfriend in highschool and Krem had thought it was because he was dating at all, or that there was something wrong with her. He’d been used to Bull being so intuitive about people, just _knowing,_ when someone was full of shit that it had left Krem feeling uneasy.

Turned out, though, everyone, even the most perceptive of people, the most friendly and welcoming, were allowed to not like people on sight sometimes. And Krem had started to learn that it was okay to trust his own judgment. That Bull was a great sounding board, and had awesome insights, but Krem was more than capable of making his own judgements.

They ate at the kitchen table, conversation purposely easy. The meal wound down and as Felix and Dorian cleared the table Krem grabbed Bull’s sleeve. “Hey, dad. I got something to run by you, when you’ve got a minute.”

“Such a serious face.” Bull poked his cheek, but his smile was kind and he steered Krem into the living room. “What’s on your mind?” He sat his his hands crossed in his lap, perfectly still, like he was waiting for bad news or an argument.

It clicked and Krem laughed. “Never thought I’d see you nervous.”

Bull laughed and relaxed, but Krem thought it was purposeful, like he was trying to hide his tells.   
“I’ve been plenty nervous, kid. You were usually too wound up yourself to notice. What you got for me?”

“It’s not about Dorian,” he started, just to watch the tension bleed from Bull’s shoulders. He grinned and settled more comfortably into the couch. “Maker, dad. You’ve known him, like, five fucking days.” Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but it was kind of nice to poke fun at Bull.

Bull shrugged. “I know good people when I see them.” He nodded toward Krem. “Knew you were the good kind right off the bat.”

Krem found that hard to believe, considering what a total shit he’d been. Uncommunicative, combative, angry. “You’re not helping your case here.”

“Nah, you just needed a little time and space. So, what’s up? It’s got to be serious, you’ve ‘dad’-ed me twice in the last ten minutes.”

So, he drew in a breath, let it out, the way he did when he was on the high dive, when he narrowed his focus down to just one thing at a time, and he laid everything out. The internship, the offer, the new courses, the new grad plans. He didn’t frame any of it as a question. He wasn’t looking for Bull’s approval. “What do you think?”

“Shit, kid. You never do things half-way, do you? It’s a big change, but you sound like you’ve thought it through. You know what you need to do, you know the outcomes. You sound excited about it the way you’ve never really been excited about your engineering work.” He spread his hands and leaned back. “This what you want?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, sharp and certain. “Yeah.”

“You’re going to be fucking awesome at this shit.”

Even though he knew it was a good plan and he was set on it, a warm flush of pride flushed through him at Bull’s approval. “Thanks.”


End file.
